


The Consequences of Crushing Butterflies

by enchanted_doughnut



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Dubious Consent, M/M, Rare Pairings, Suicide, Time Travel, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-07 21:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7730701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enchanted_doughnut/pseuds/enchanted_doughnut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Waking up in St Mungo's almost sixty years in the past, newly appointed Auror Ron Weasley is out of his depth. England is at war with the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, but he's more concerned about the threat of a young Dark Lord still at Hogwarts. Ron is about to learn a very valuable lesson in Time Travel, and the dangers of trying to change history.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Past is Now

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is an idea I’ve had for quite a while now and finally got around to writing it. There are so many Time Travel fics with Harry/Tom and Hermione/Tom, but nothing with Ron! So, I decided to give it a shot! 
> 
> In regards to the warnings, we start off fairly light hearted, but it’s going to get a bit crazy later on. I’ll put in specific warnings in those chapters when it all starts going down. 
> 
> This is my first fanfic and I don’t have a Beta, so I apologise for any glaring mistakes that I've missed. I’ve had fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it too!

Over his short life, Ron had unfortunately grown far too familiar with St Mungo’s. Mostly it was from his own actions at work; Aurors _did_ live a dangerous life, and the wizards he ended up facing had a tendency to fight dirty. So before Ron had even opened his eyes, he knew where he was. The sterile smell of cleaning products mixed with an earthy undertone of magical herbs and potions belonged only to one place. 

But _how_ had he gotten here, though? The last thing he could remember… he was having dinner with Hermione? They had just moved into a home and were still unpacking. He could remember the vague faces of Harry and Ginny… _Hooded figures, a blinding light burning him, ripping him from his body –_

Ron gripped his head as a sharp pain shot through it. Groaning, he wearily opened his eyes. Yep, definitely St Mungo’s, he could recognise those off white ceilings even through blurry vision.

_I think I should take some time off work._ Ron thought to himself. _Recover for a bit, spend time with Hermione…_

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Ron glanced towards the door, where a young Medi-Witch had just walked in. Her white tailored robes matched the capped hat upon her head, set at a jaunty angle. Now Ron wasn’t very familiar with women’s fashion, and even less familiar professional dress codes outside of the Auror Department, but, in his opinion, it seemed a bit… outdated? It was more of a style his Aunt Maple would wear, not a young woman!

Ron rubbed his eyes. He really didn’t need to be questioning the girl’s clothing, it was probably really fashionable, or something.

The Medi-Witch hurried over to him, placing her clipboard on the bedside table. The bed dipped as she sat next to him, the fabric of her robes brushing against Ron’s hand. “How long have you been awake?” She asked, feeling the pulse in his wrist.

“Only a minute or so,” Ron replied, blinking as she shone a wand light into his eye.

“What is your name?” She continued, holding up a finger for him to focus on. “Do you remember what happened to you? You were found unconscious out in the Scottish Highlands almost a day ago. We couldn’t find any identification, so we had you named as John Smith.”

“Ron Weasley. Erm…” Ron felt his ears go hot as the Medi-Witch leaned over him to grab her clipboard and quill. She smelt like a mixture of… Flowers. Definitely something floral. “I can’t remember. Must have been on the job. I’m an Auror, you know.”

The scratching of the quill stopped and the Medi-Witch’s eyes snapped up to his. “Of course. Well, Mr Weasley, we will get in contact with your family and let them know you’re here. And the Auror Department, I’m sure they’re worried about you too.” She stood up abruptly and started to walk towards the door.

“I’m feeling alright, you know.” Ron called out to her, trying to get out of bed. But his whole body didn’t move like he was paralysed. Ron’s heart skipped a beat. No, he couldn’t be… 

The Medi-Witch glanced back at him. “Binding spells.” She explained. “With the war, we have to take safety measures with unidentified patients.”

“But I just told you who I am!” Ron struggled to no avail; his body wouldn’t budge. “I’m Ron Weasley! I’m an Auror! I fought You-Know-Who!”

“I’m sorry,” She mumbled, before almost fleeing out the room. 

 

Ron tried to struggle against the Binding spell a bit longer, but without his wand it was hopeless. He could feel the magic wrapped around his body, trapping him to the bed, and he could tell the spell was strong.  What had the witch meant, though? _With the war,_ she had said. What war? The war with You-Know-Who had ended!

The memory of hooded figures crossed his mind again, followed by the sharp pain. 

Ron ended up waiting for almost an hour, he guessed, before the door to his room opened again. This time, it was an older man with dark blonde hair, and scruffy stubble across his chin. His robes, like the witch’s, seemed outdated again. A thick tweed fabric with an emphasised collar and metal buttons. This seemed like something his Uncle Boris would wear!

Wait, was that an Auror badge?! Glinting in the light was a silver badge pinned to the man’s chest.  Ron could make out the letters _D M L E._ The Department of Magical Law and Enforcement. Ron looked at his face again. He knew almost all the Aurors, one way or another, but he didn’t recognise this man.

The man’s heavy steps echoed around the room as he walked slowly towards Ron. His cold eyes bore into Ron’s, and Ron felt his heart speed up. He tried struggling against the bindings, but there was no weakness in the spell.

“Who are you?” The man asked.

“… Ron Weasley.”

“Where are you from, Ron Weasley?”

Ron stared at the man incredulously. “I’m from bloody here!” He said. “Who are _you_ , anyway?”

“Wayne Gallagher.” The man said. “Head of the Auror Division in the Department of Magical Law and Enforcement.”

“No, you’re not!” Ron snapped back instantly. “Robards is Head Auror! Who the bloody hell are you?!” Ron tried struggling harder and cursed. Where was his bloody wand? _Accio wand! Accio wand!_

“Now listen here,” Gallagher said, drawing out his own wand and pointing it directly at Ron. “Either your head has lost of few Gobstones and you’ll end up in the Permanent Ward here, or you’re a really bad spy. Either way, I don’t have the time or the patience to play around with you.”

“W-Wait!” Ron said desperately. “I’m Ron Weasley! I fought You-Know-Bloody-Who! With Harry Potter! Surely you know him, you daft –”

“ _Legilimens!”_ The room disappeared around Ron as his memories swam before his eyes.

_Hogwarts in ruins, the burning smell of magic lingering in their air. Fighting alongside students, teachers, parents. Hagrid carrying Harry’s limp body. You-Know-Who, his sickly pale skin reflecting the moonlight, red eyes glowing… Hermione. Beautiful, clever Hermione. Kissing her after she threw herself into his arms… Camping out in the wilderness. The locket. Hate, anger, and jealousy; being consumed by it… Flying on the back of an invisible Thestral, seeing only the ground far below him… Winning the Quidditch match! Kissing Lavender... Hermione, in periwinkle blue robes, dancing with Victor Krum... Scabbers, transforming into a man. Being attacked by Sirius Black, sharp teeth biting into his flesh… Being trapped in the Chamber with Lockhart, bones crushing underneath his feet... Standing on a giant chess board, knowing there was only one move to make… Begging the hat to sort him into Gryffindor… Sitting with Harry on the train for the first time._

His memories abruptly stopped, and the room came back into focus. Gallagher stared at him, eyes wide. The confident man who walked into the room was gone. All the blood had drained out of his face, his lips white.

“You…” He stuttered.

“Un-Unauthorised use of the Legilimency Charm is illegal.” Ron said faintly. He could hear Hermione’s voice clear in his head. “It must first be approved by the Wizengamot, unless in times of war –”

“We _are_ in times of war, Ron Weasley.” Gallagher said. “Today is the 3 rd of August, 1942. We have been at war against the Dark Wizard Grindelwald for several years now.”

Ron felt the room spin around him. 1942?! That was, blimey, that was over 60 years ago!

“That’s… impossible,” He croaked out.

You have memories, of Hogwarts,” Gallagher said. “And of things that haven’t happened yet… That man in the courtyard …Or these could be fake memories. Of a fake time. I need to get the Unspeakables.” Gallagher left, and Ron was alone with his spinning mind.

 

It was several hours before Gallagher returned. The Medi-Witch, whose name he learnt was Annette, returned shortly after his initial departure with a sheepish smile and a tray of food, but Ron couldn’t even humour picking at it. For several hours, Ron was left alone with his thoughts, spiralling deeper and deeper into a chaotic mess of panic, fear and confusion. By the time Gallagher walked back into the room, Ron was staring blankly at the wall opposite.

“Ron Weasley,” Gallagher said, his voice snapping Ron out of his daze. “This is Brian Cornfoot. He is an Unspeakable.” A larger man stepped out from behind Gallagher. Like the Auror, he wore a tweed robe, the buttons straining over his large stomach. His hair was dark, streaked with white hair.

Cornfoot stared at Ron for a moment. “Auror Gallagher has told me an incredible story.” The man began. “He came to me, claiming he cast Legilimency on a John Smith in St Mungo’s who has memories of events that have not passed. What do you have to say to that, Mr Weasley?”

Ron swallowed thickly, his mouth dry. “Those things have all happened to me. They are my real memories. I was born on the 1st of March, 1980.”

Gallagher gasped, but Cornfoot without looking, held up his hand to quieten the man.

“Legilimency is a fickle art, Mr Weasley.” Cornfoot said. “A wizard skilled in Occlumency can block and reveal certain memories to trick the person reading their mind into believing what they want. Creating entire memories, especially over a lifetime, like Auror Gallagher claims, is impossible save for the truly insane. I mean you no offence by saying this, Mr Weasley, but I truly hope that you are insane.”

Ron stared at the Unspeakable. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.

“The alternative, you see, is far worse. If you _have_ travelled back through time, your mere presence has already begun to alter the world around you, and changing the future you are from. We need to get you to the Department of Mysteries, as quickly as possible and we can find out what is the truth. I will not take any unnecessary risks,” Cornfoot continued. “Time Travel is _dangerous_ magic, to both yourself and to everyone here. The sooner we figure this whole situation out, the better.”

“So… What now then?” Ron asked, his voice croaky.

 

The pair gave Ron his robes back to wear out of St Mungo’s, but refused to hand him his wand. Ron could see nervousness written across Annette’s face as she brought his robes into the room for him, and he felt his stomach churn knowing he was the reason for it. Leaving the room, Gallagher gripped Ron’s arm tightly, not giving him any leeway to escape. Several heads of the staff in the hallway turned to look at him, their expressions a combination of curiosity and wariness. Ron felt his ears go red at the attention, and squirmed uncomfortably, only making Gallagher grip his arm tighter.

As they stepped into the empty lift, Cornfoot spoke. “Gallagher, please cast a Disillusionment Charm on Mr Weasley. Your idea to escort him out like a criminal drew too much unnecessary attention.”

“You said yourself he’s dangerous.” Gallagher protested. “ _I’m_ the expert in dealing with dangerous wizards.”

“That you are, yet you handle the situation with the subtlety of a bludger.”  

Gallagher's face went bright red and he let out a strangled noise about to rebut Cornfoot’s comment, but the lift pinged open, and the fat man was already walking out into the foyer. Ron heard Gallagher mutter under his breath as he pulled out his wand to cast the Disillusionment Charm, catching the words _entitled_ and _stuck up_ and a swear word far worse than those. The Auror whacked the top of Ron’s head harshly, causing him to wince and rub his head.

“Quiet.” Gallagher snapped, dragging Ron after the Unspeakable.

The pair found Cornfoot waiting for them outside around a quiet corner beside the Hospital, holding a patterned teacup in one hand, and pointed his wand at it with his other. “I have brought this to be a Portkey, I just need to activate it. Both of you, touch the cup.”

“I’ll assume you have authorisation for that Portkey?” More of a statement than an actual question, Gallagher’s sarcastic tone made Cornfoot glare at the Auror.

“Where is this taking us to?” Ron asked.

Cornfoot looked at Ron, but his eyes were unfocused, unable to see Ron properly through the charm. “Directly to the Department of Mysteries. An Unspeakable and Auror escorting a disillusioned wizard to the Department of Mysteries? There will be rumours across the entire Ministry before the hour’s end.”

Ron shrugged slightly. Made sense. Plus, he didn’t want half the Ministry to think he was a criminal! Both he and Gallagher touched the cup, and Cornfoot made a complicated wand wave, muttering _“Portus.”_ under his breath. Ron suddenly felt his fingers fix to the ceramic, and a tug on navel as the spell activated. Several long seconds of bright colours rushing past him and Ron’s feet slammed into the ground. Slightly disorientated, he blinked looking around.

The Department of Mysteries looked exactly like it did from his time. The same dark brick walls and marble flooring, and low-lit blue candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. Ron shivered, remembering his experience with this gloomy place.

“You can take off the Disillusionment now.” Cornfoot ordered Gallagher. “There is no-one in here except for my colleague.” Gallagher muttered his choice swear word under his breath, and rapped Ron smartly on the same spot as before. “I would also request that you remain here for safety while I test Mr Weasley.”

“I can send one of my Aurors to do that.” Gallagher said, his voice strained with anger, his patience close to snapping. “I _am_ Head Auror, and have other business that I need to do.”

“No Gallagher, _you_ have to overlook it.” Cornfoot replied. “If Mr Weasley truly is a Time Traveller, he needs to have a minimal amount of contact with people from this time. Every person he interacts with, he influences their future.”

Gallagher sighed in annoyance but nodded in agreement. “Fine then. But I can’t hang around all day.” Cornfoot nodded and turned to Ron. “Well, Mr Weasley,” he said. “If it is okay with you, I would like to begin testing you immediately. This will involve Legilimency, and will be much more intrusive than what Gallagher performed on you.”  

Ron felt his stomach clench. “Why does it need to be so _intrusive?”_ Ron protested. “Surely you would be able to see straight away that I have real memories of the future!”

Cornfoot gestured for Ron to follow him. He led the two men through one of the doors to a small room filled floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves. Large tomes and leather bound books were piled up hazardously around the room, looking like the slightest brush against them would topple them over. In the centre of the room were two well-worn sofas, and a young man sprawled across one, a book hovering inches above his head.

“Alton!” Cornfoot barked. The young man yelped, and the book fell on his face with a loud thump. “I told you before I left to prepare a room for our _guest.”_

“I done that Mr Cornfoot, sir!” The man said, sitting up, rubbing his nose. He looked about Ron’s age, maybe a bit younger. He had a mop of curly blonde hair and was clean shaven. His grey eyes locked with Ron’s. “Is that him, sir? The Time Traveller?” He asked, his eyes widening.

“We are going to find out.” Cornfoot said, sitting on the sofa next to the other man. He gestured to the opposite sofa for Ron to sit on. Gallagher remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. 

“How much do you know about Legilimency?” Cornfoot asked Ron.

Ron shrugged. “I know how to do it. We were taught it and Occulmency in our Auror training.”

Gallagher nodded. “This is correct. Though, I wouldn’t have imagined from _your_ mind that you had training.”

Ron puffed his chest up. “You burst into my room, started accusing me of being a bloody spy and cast the spell on me! I had no time to prepare!”

“You would never have time to prepare in the field.” Gallagher snapped back. “All it takes is one stray thought and the enemy knows your secrets and intel. You comprise a not only the mission you are on but the lives of other Aurors and civilians too!” Cornfoot cleared his throat, but Gallagher continued. “If you were one of mine, I would send you straight back for re-training! The future must have gotten soft if _this_ is the standard of Aurors –”

_“How dare you –”_ Ron was up on his feet, his hands clenched in fists.

_“AHEM!”_ Cornfoot almost shouted at them. “Sit _down_ Weasley. Gallagher, control yourself! You can discuss the state of the _current_ Auror division _after_ with Mr Weasley if you so desire.”

Still seething, Ron threw himself down on the sofa, glaring daggers at the wall behind Cornfoot’s head. Gallagher huffed, and walked over to the opposite wall, leaning against it.

“As I was _trying_ to say,” Cornfoot shot Gallagher a sharp glare. “If you have studied the Mind Arts, then you are no doubt aware of the complexities. Legilimency is one of the most complex and subjective forms of magic. You do not only see the subject's surface thoughts or memories, you all see their emotions, their beliefs, opinions, and imagination. I need to perform a thorough mind delve on you, Mr Weasley because I need to know what is truth. Not what you _believe_ the truth to be. This involves looking _past_ what is obvious, and correctly interpreting what is hidden.”

Ron looked at Cornfoot incredulity. “You’re not making any sense, mate.”

Cornfoot closed his eyes, a let out a deep sigh. “You believe you are from the future, yes?”

Ron nodded. “I _am._ ”

“But you could only _believe_ you are. Your memories could have been altered by either by yourself or an outside force. We are in times of war, Mr Weasley. Terrible things happen to people we care about. People we are close to. These kind of events can be too much for your mind to handle, so it can… replace it with something more favourable. What you remember might not have actually happened.”

“Why are you so bloody eager to believe I’m not from the future?”

“Because Mr Weasley, you being from the future is the worst case scenario.”

“I _am_ from the future,” Ron repeated. “I was born in 1980.”

Cornfoot nodded. “If you would care to prove it to me?”

Ron felt the sick dread build up in his stomach, but he couldn’t think of what else he could do. These people weren’t going to let him go until they believed he wasn’t from their time. They were being civil, and not aggressive at least. They did still have his wand, but if a strange wizard suddenly appeared out of nowhere claiming to be from another time, Ron would probably take his wand too, at least until he knew he could trust them. “Go on then,” Ron said.

Cornfoot took out his wand and pointed at Ron. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

_He was eating breakfast with Hermione in the Burrow. The morning light was kissing her skin. It caught her hair, making it shine like a thousand strands of copper… The sun was beating down on his head, and Ron could feel sweat running down the back of his hot neck. Next to him, Ginny had her hands pressed to her mouth to stop herself sobbing like George was, as they lowered Fred’s casket into the ground... You-Know-Who standing amongst his Death Eaters after returning from the Forest; pure sadistic glee on his face, knowing he had won… Ron was laughing so hard his cheeks hurt and tears were building in his eyes, next to him Harry was in a similar state. The Common Room was boisterous around them, full of talking and laughter. Hermione threw them both filthy looks as she edited their Potions essays… Ron was in the stands watching Quidditch, his heart thumping with adrenaline. Harry was flying with such grace it was like he was born to be in the air. Wood blocked the quaffle, and Ron watched the Keeper cheer with a longing in his gut… Ron stared at the paper, his stomach twisting. He knew the answer, he remembered reading it! He just couldn’t think of it! … His brothers were cheering as he sank into the seat next to them. Ron was filled with relief; glad he wasn’t the first Weasley in ten generations to be sorted into a house other than Gryffindor!_

The memories stopped and the room came back into focus. Cornfoot was staring at him appraisingly, sweat beading the man’s forehead. “Alton. Please contact Headmaster Dippet at Hogwarts. I want a list of every student to have attended in the last 10 years. I also want you to bring the Ministry’s copy of the Weasley family tree.”

“O-O’ course Mr Cornfoot!” The young man said, jumping up.

Silence smothered the room as neither Ron nor Cornfoot spoke. “Who was that man?” Cornfoot finally asked, his voice was quiet. “The one with the pale skin?”

“And the snake-face?” Gallagher spoke up suddenly. “I saw him too.”

“That was You-Know-Who, I mean, you don’t, I guess.” Ron stuttered out. “That’s what we call him, no-one really says his name, except for Harry and Dumbledore. In the second War, it was Taboo! The Snatchers came after anyone who spoke his real name, ‘cause the only people who would say it opposed him. He’s one of the worst Dark Wizards of all time. You guys keep going on about Grindelwald, but Grindelwald wasn’t nearly as bad as You-Know-Who! But don’t worry!” Ron hastily added, seeing the look of alarm on Gallagher’s face. “He won’t appear for ages yet, he’s way after this… time…” Ron’s voice trailed off. “What year is this, again?”

“1942,” Gallagher answered.

“He’s here.” Ron's voice was trembling. “He’s a student in Hogwarts. Next year, he’s going to get an award for stopping these attacks, but he was the one who-”

“ENOUGH!” Cornfoot bellowed, his face a blotchy red. “DO NOT SAY ANYTHING ELSE!” Ron and Gallagher looked at the Unspeakable in alarm.

“What the bloody hell is your problem?!” Ron fired back. “He’s _here!_ We need to stop him!”

“No, we do not!” Cornfoot seethed. “ _This_ is the danger of Time Travel! _This_ is why I said I’d rather you be insane, or a victim of war or anything _but_ a Time Traveller! You want to change history! Anything you do here will change the future you are from! You could alter your future in such a way it’s unrecognisable! Entire generations have been wiped out by people experimenting with Time Travel! The damage you would cause is inconceivable!” 

“You don’t get it!” Ron yelled back. “You-Know-Who was completely mental! He was so obsessed with the Dark Arts he went insane! All he wanted was power and killed anyone who stood up to him! He used Pureblood propaganda to hurt Muggle-borns and Muggles! The world would be a better place without him in it!”

“STOP TALKING!” Cornfoot bellowed again. “Gallagher, get out!”

“You can’t order me around like some–”

“GET OUT NOW!” Cornfoot was sweating profusely, his hands curled into fat pink fists.

Gallagher shot Ron a look, and Ron knew the Auror believed him. The door shut behind him, and Ron turned to Cornfoot. “So I guess you believe me now, huh? Being from the future.”

Cornfoot was still shaking as he took a few deep breaths to compose himself. “I do not yet believe you are.” He gritted out. “However, I will _not_ take any risks. I will _not_ allow you to potentially change the future until I can rule it out as an impossibility.”

“Nothing is impossible.” Ron said in a low voice.

“How right you are.” Cornfoot sighed, raising his wand. “ _Legilimens!_ ”

 

 


	2. A Boy Named Tom

 

_“Do you really think they’re Death Eaters?” Ron asked, leaning against the wall inside the Auror Department. He was ready to go, now he was just waiting for Harry. His best friend was forcibly trying to shove his invisibility cloak into his robe pocket, with failing success._

_“I’m not sure… It sounds like they could be.” Harry grunted out. “Maybe they’re just Voldemort supporters, or fanatics or something.”_

_Ron flinched at the name. Years had passed since He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named died, officially died this time, and still, old habits were hard to shake. Ron had grown up hearing so many stories about the scary Dark Lord, and they really left a lasting impression no matter how illogical; like if you said his name he would appear in the middle of the night and kill you! He also liked to hide underneath beds, and if you stuck your leg out from under the blanket, he would grab your foot and pull you under! Fred and George did that one to him once, at the tender age of four. Ron had to sleep in Bill’s bed for a week after, until his eldest brother came up with an elaborate plan for a blanket fort protected by all of their stuffed toys._

_Harry clasped his hands together in triumph, finally managing to fit his cloak in his pocket. He turned to Ron grinning, who only shook his head.  “Better go easy on those scones, mate.” Ron chuckled._

_“Tell your mum, she keeps bringing food over!”_

_“You’re family now! She’s not doing her job if she’s not fattening you up!” Ron laughed. “And you know she’s going to be wanting grandkids from you next!”_

_Harry didn’t answer straight away, his gaze sliding off in the distance. “Maybe one day…” Harry then quickly shook his head. “Let’s get going. Those Death Eaters won’t wait around all day for us.”_

 

*             *             *

 

Ron poked at the white knight, telling it to move. The rider turned around and gave Ron a very rude gesture, before urging its horse forward. This new chess set Alton gave Ron was still getting used to him, but at least they were starting to trust him now. Alton’s set was arguing his every move.

“But if I move the pawn there, Ron’s castle will take it.” Alton chewed on his thumb.

“It’s a pawn!” The piece argued. “It doesn’t matter if it gets taken!”

For two weeks Ron had been held captive in the Department of Mysteries. They were _literally_ holding him captive! After having his mind repeatedly abused by Cornfoot and his deepest secrets exposed to the man, the Unspeakables then cross referenced everything against their records: List of Hogwarts students; Quidditch players; missing Aurors; his own family tree! Cornfoot finally came to the conclusion that there was no-one in their current time who could possibly have all of Ron’s memories. Ron must be a Time Traveller!

He was almost happy, before they hurled him in a _prison cell._

“You are far too dangerous to let out of this Department.” Cornfoot had said. “We cannot let you interact with our time, especially after expressing a desire to attack someone!”

“That’s bloody You-Know-Who I want to attack!” Ron argued back on deaf ears.

“While we work on the spell to send you back to your time, you will remain in here, and not communicate with anyone except for Alton and myself.”

So for two weeks now, Ron had been living in the Department of Mysteries. His _prison cell_ for a bedroom was an empty room, save for a single bed, chest of drawers, and a desk and chair. Though he was given access to communal areas of the Department, like their library and kitchenette, he was banned from entering any of the other rooms.

“You know I know what’s in there.” Ron said to Cornfoot, smirking.

“I’m surprised you’re in such a hurry to go back in, after the last time you were here.” Cornfoot replied with a stony face as Ron unconsciously rubbed his arms were he still had faint scars from the brain’s tendrils. As of yesterday, Cornfoot gave him access to the Room of Prophesies so he could _dust_ them! He had a real job to do! Ron had never been so thrilled.  

 

The sounds of Alton’s chess pieces squawking at the man in terror brought Ron out of his daydream. “Not there you dung-headed-!” They shouted up at Alton, jumping up and down in panic. Ron looked down at the board to see the man’s move.

Ron moved his bishop forward, “Checkmate.”

“Oh, Merlin’s blasted socks!” Alton swore. “You’re really good at this, you know!”

Ron shrugged, secretly preening under the compliment. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

They were playing in the library, the chess board set up on a small table between the two sofas. The library, surprisingly even to himself, was the room Ron tended to spend most of his time in. He couldn’t read half the books in there; either the subject was something he knew nothing about, and trying to read them only left him staring blankly at the page wondering what half the words meant, or they just weren’t even in English. Not that he had tried reading half of them, it was an educated guess.

“There’s just too many options,” Alton said, clearing his pieces off the board. “I never know what moves to make!”

“That just comes with experience, mate. You start to see patterns after a while.”

Silence grew in the room, making Alton glance up at Ron, a small frown forming on his forehead.  “Are you okay, Ron?” He asked. “You’ve been very quiet today.”

Ron sighed, leaning back into the sofa. “I’m going barmy in here. I’ve been trapped in the same rooms with nothing to do, and only you and Cornfoot to talk to for two weeks now.”

“Mr Cornfoot has given you access to the Room of Prophesies now!” Alton said. “That’s… something.”

Ron gave Alton an unimpressed look. “You cannot honestly tell me that cleaning Cornfoot’s dusty balls is exciting.”

Alton let out a loud snort and started laughing. “Not something I can comment on, myself.” He managed to choke out, before falling into a fit of giggles again.

Ernest Alton has graduated from Hogwarts two years previous. He was a creative Ravenclaw who had a tendency to think outside of the square, which often had him getting derailed and start focusing on something completely off topic. Not something that got you high marks in school, but his friendliness and burning curiosity made him a favourite of all the Professors, so he was recommended by many of them when a position became available in the Department of Mysteries. Since Ron ‘moved in’ to the Department, Alton had gone out of his way to see that Ron was as comfortable as he could be. He would bring him wizard games like chess and Gobstones to play with, and when Cornfoot wasn’t looking, snuck him copies of the Daily Prophet.

“Hey, Ernie,” Ron said when the man started to calm down. “Why don’t we go for a walk outside for a bit? Just to get some fresh air.”

Alton looked at Ron in alarm, his grin sliding off his face. “We can’t let you out, Ron! You can’t have any interactions with our time until we figure out what spell was used to bring you here, and how to send you back.”

“Come on, Ernie. I’ve been stuck in here for two weeks now, and I’m starting to bloody lose it. All I want to do is go outside and see the sunlight. I won’t talk to anyone!” Alton looked at Ron with a torn expression of concern, so Ron pushed. “You will be there to watch over me, you’ve got a wand, and Cornwell still has mine confiscated somewhere. I promise I won’t run off and pick a fight or anything!”

Alton chewed his lip. “I suppose… a few minutes couldn’t hurt. While Cornfoot is gone. We have to be back before he does!”

“Yes!” Ron leapt up off the sofa and fist pumped the air. “Ernie you’re the best!”

“Umm… Thanks,” The man said. “We’d better get going then, before Cornfoot comes back.”

_Yes, yes, yes, yes!_ Ron chanted in his mind, bounding happily behind Alton. He bounced on the balls of his feet as Alton unlocked the large door leading out to the Ministry, Merlin he had never been so excited to see a dark corridor in his life! They stepped out into the corridor, and Ron felt a shiver run down his spine as their footsteps echoed. He was out! They walked in silence to the lift where – Oh Merlin, there was a person! Someone Ron didn’t know! Ron stared wide-eyed at the woman who shot him an alarmed glance and shifted so Alton was between them.

“G’Morning, Mrs Nettlebed!” Alton greeted her. The woman smiled politely back, and started to make small talk with the Unspeakable, but Ron was too distracted to listen. _He was out of the Department!_

As the gold grille shuttered open, Ron all but leapt into the lift and pressed the button to the Atrium. 

“Your friend is… energetic.” Nettlebed commented to Alton, as they followed Ron in.

“Erm… Yes, he his! He’s helping us out, but I can’t tell you much. Department secrets!” Alton tapped the side of his nose.

Nettlebed laughed. “Oh, I wouldn’t _dare_ try and learn any of Cornfoot’s _secrets!”_

The pair continued their banter, but Ron couldn’t take his eyes off the numbers changing. _Nearly, nearly there…!_

_“Level 8. The Atrium.”_ The lift opened, and bustling noise burst in. Hundreds of busy Ministry employees hurried down the hallway of lifts and around the Atrium, trying to go about their business, bumping and shoving as they went. Their voices rose as each person tried to shout over one another, making a chaotic chorus that excited some, while only made others recoil with dread.

“Did you hear? Nott got arrested! Gallagher did it himself –”

“Daily Prophet! Get yo’r Daily Prophet ‘ere! Read ‘bout Grindelwald’s latest attack –”

“Again?! I’ve _never_ seen a Pureblood family fall so quickly! He has a boy, doesn’t he? Poor lad –”

“Blasted birds! My desk is a bloomin’ mess again! Someone has _got_ to find a better means of –”

Ron looked up at the vibrant blue ceiling and saw dozens of owls flying, memos and letters in their beaks.

“Come on, Ron!” Alton said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s go!”

“I’ve missed this,” Ron said dreamily, as the man tugged him along.

The pair navigated their way through the crowd, past the golden statues in the fountain; the water tinkling pleasantly underneath the racket, and occasionally bumping into the frantic employee rushing past. The crowd had died down a bit when they reached the fireplaces all connected to the Floo Network. They had just started walking to the London entrance, when a loud, familiar voice boomed behind them.

“Alton! Ernie Alton!” Ron spun around and saw a _much_ younger and slimmer Horace Slughorn standing behind him waving. But what really threw Ron was the mane of thick blonde hair that sat upon the Potions Professor’s head. It was so out of place it looked like he skinned a Kneazle and stuck that on his should be bald head.

“Professor Slughorn!” Alton said grinning. “It’s good to see you again sir!”

“And it’s good to see you too, my boy!” Slughorn came over to the pair of them and shook Alton’s hand enthusiastically. “I haven’t seen you since you graduated! You know, I told you to keep in touch with me!” Slughorn wagged his finger at him.

“Ah-hah! Sorry Professor,” Alton scratched his head embarrassed. “I’ve been really busy working in the Department of Mysteries. I can’t really tell you too much about the work there, either…”

“Nonsense! You can spare _some_ details for your old Potions Professor! I _did_ recommend you for the job, you know! You have one of the most abstract and creative minds I’ve had the pleasure of teaching! I’m positive you’ll come up something _ingenious_ working there!”

Alton laughed awkwardly, his face flushed pink with embarrassment. 

“Speaking of brilliant minds, I’m sure you remember this young man! Come over here, Tom! Don’t be so shy!”

The world seemed to tilt beneath Ron as a young teenager stepped up next to Slughorn. Pale skin, with pitch-black hair combed perfectly against his head. He was younger than what Ron saw in the locket – His face was more rounded, and didn’t have the hollowed cheeks or maniacal eyes, but there was no mistaking Tom Riddle.

Riddle smiled at Alton politely. “It’s nice to meet you again, Alton.” He said quietly, holding out his hand for the Unspeakable. While his robes didn’t have a single crease on them, the hemming along the wrists was frayed.

“You too, Riddle! What year are you in now?”

“I’m starting fifth year in September. Professor Slughorn has very generously taken time out of his holidays to help introduce me to some people in the Ministry. With his help, I will hopefully have some of my own connections after I graduate from Hogwarts, for job opportunities.”

“That’s great! There are so many different things you can do here in the Ministry, it just depends on what interests you!” Alton enthusiastically spoke. “The Department of Magical Law and Enforcement are desperate for new staff right now –”

The three continued talking, but Ron couldn’t focus. He was here. _He was standing right there!_ Ron's hand twitched to grab his wand, but mentally cursed when he remembered he didn’t have it. But Alton has _his_ wand. Ron could disarm him physically. He knew the move, he had practised it a hundred times. Alton kept his wand down the front of his robes, all he had to do was lock Alton’s arm back, and bam! It would take less than two seconds, and he had the element of surprise. He would have to act quickly then, though. Disarm Slughorn first. But then Riddle. Harry had said Riddle was a genius at Hogwarts, no doubt skilled in duelling already. But Ron had _actual_ fighting experience.

Dark eyes suddenly moved to his, and Ron was snapped out of his thoughts. Riddle was staring at him.

“This is… erm…” Alton paused.

“Ron Weasley.” Ron gritted out. He heard Alton inhale sharply next to him. No doubt the Unspeakable didn’t want him using his real name in the past, but he wanted Riddle to know his name. The name of the man who helped stop his reign in the future. No, the name of the man who would prevent him from ever doing it.

Riddle smiled politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Weasley.” The boy held out his hand to Ron, who stared at it. No, he can’t do this. Not now. He’s in the Ministry, so no sooner would he disarm Alton, would he be flat on his back from a dozen stunning spells shot at his chest. He needs to _think_ about this. He needs a plan. Ron forced a smile and shook Riddle’s hand. It was cold. Ron glanced up at the boy and noticed he was staring at Ron intensely.

“Well, we had best be going!” Slughorn clapped. “We still need to introduce Tom to Minister Spencer-Moon! Leonard has a meeting in half an hour, so we can’t keep him waiting much longer! It was _good_ to see you again, Ernie!”

“You too Professor!”

“Goodbye, Mr Weasley.” Riddle said with a slight smile on his face. His expression was pleasant, but his eyes were still piercing.

“Yes, yes, goodbye Willoughby!” Slughorn waved half-heartedly at Ron not even looking at him. 

As the backs of the Professor and his student disappeared into the crowd, Alton grabbed Ron’s arm and started to forcibly drag him back towards the lifts. “What are you doing?” Ron snapped, trying to dislodge him.

“Taking you back to the Department of Mysteries. It was a mistake letting you out here.”

“Ernie that was You-Know –” Ron’s voice was cut off as the man spun around suddenly, wand in hand.

_“Silenceo!”_ Ron gaped at the Unspeakable, but the man had already turned, still dragging Ron.

It was only back in the Department, the door firmly locked behind them, did Alton speak.

“What the _hell_ was that?” Ron gestured to his mouth and shrugged. Alton flicked his wand, cancelling the spell.

“ _That_ was bloody You-Know-Who! That was _him,_ Ernie!”

Alton stared at him with a stony face. “Cornfoot told you to forget about him. You cannot do anything to affect this time!”

“Ernie, You-Know-Who is one of the worst Dark Wizards in history! He killed and tortured thousands of Muggles and Muggle-borns and anyone who tried to protect them! He has destroyed so many families in both the wars! The world is a better place without him!”

“Ron, _you cannot change history!”_ Alton shot back, aspirated. “History must play out, like it’s destined to do! We cannot calculate what will happen after you start messing around!”

“THIS ISN’T MESSING AROUND!” Ron bellowed, his patience finally snapped. For two weeks, all he had been hearing from Cornfoot was to stay put; don’t do anything, don’t touch anything, don't talk to anyone, or else you'll _literally_ ruin the world! Now hearing the same regurgitated dung from Alton, after seeing the young Dark Lord, was too much for him. “You don’t understand! You haven’t had your family members _murdered_ by him! You haven’t been on the run from him with a bounty on your head for sticking by your best friend! You-Know-Who _destroyed_ lives! He ruined so many things, and if I can prevent it from happening, I’m going to!”

“You could prevent yourself from being born!” Alton yelled back. “You wouldn’t just die Ron, you would disappear! Time paradoxes –”

“I DON’T GIVE A RAT’S ARSE IF I DIE!” Ron bellowed over Alton. “If I can stop You-Know-Who, then it doesn’t _matter_ what happens to me! I’ve already vowed once that I would sacrifice my life to stop him, and I would do it again!”

“Ron, you don’t understand…”

“No, _you_ don’t understand!” Ron stormed past Alton. He had enough of this. “Jus- Just leave me alone!” Stomping to his room, he slammed the door behind him, the whole frame shaking.

Panting, anger still boiling underneath his skin, Ron kicked his bed frame, swearing loudly as hot pain shot up his toe. Collapsing on the bed, he buried his face in the pillow. He was right, and Cornfoot and Alton were wrong. He had to change history. Cornfoot was too rigid, too afraid to bend any rules despite it being the right thing, and Alton was just a Yes-Man to Cornfoot. He seemed nice, but when push came to shove, he was just the same. Ron had to stop Tom Riddle. He had to do it now, when the boy was still young, before he got powerful and created Horcruxes.

Ron sat up bolt right. The Horcruxes! When had Riddle started making them?! Ron gripped his hair, trying to think. Harry had seen all the memories of Riddle before he became You-Know-Who, but he retold everything to him and Hermione. He had started making them while he was still in Hogwarts. The Diary to open the Chamber of Secrets and the Ring which was actually the Resurrection Stone. Ravenclaw’s Diadem too. Did he make that one while he was in Hogwarts, or after?

Ron leapt off the bed and hobbled to the desk. He had to write down everything he could remember. He had to work out the timeline of Riddle’s actions. Ron needed to stop Riddle before he started making them, but if it was too late… Well, Ron already had experience destroying his Horcruxes, he would just need to do it again.

 

*             *             *

 

Leaning back in his chair, Ron shook his hand, trying to loosen the cramp. For the last two days, he had been writing down everything he could remember about the boy Tom Riddle and the man He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was a mismatch of information. Some things he could remember with crystal clarity and could write several pages in detail, like when the Chamber of Secrets was opened in his second year. Other information, was like trying to catch a Snitch with your eyes closed; not matter how hard he tried, it kept escaping him. For example, the name of the town Riddle’s parents were from.

Ron scratched his head. It was a muggle town. Little something. Little Hanged Man? Little Winchester? He needed to figure out that town and go check on both the Riddle family and the Gaunts, later. Maybe he could somehow get the Ministry records on the Gaunts… That would have their address.

Today was the 23rd of August 1942. Hogwarts starts up on the 1st of September where Riddle would start his fifth year. Over this school year, Riddle will open the Chamber of Secrets, set the Basilisk inside on the Muggle-born students before finally killing Moaning Myrtle. He will pin this all on Hagrid and his bloody oversized spider Aragog, and come away a hero. And with Myrtle’s death, he will create his first Horcrux. Ron has to stop him, but he was helpless to do anything so long as he was stuck here. He _had_ to find a way outside of this blasted Department. Cornfoot and Alton were no closer to discovering a way to send him back, and he was going to remain their prisoner until they do.

There was a loud knock at the door, and Ron jumped up. Scooping his notes in his arms, he ran across to his bed, shoving them underneath the mattress. After giving the room one last scan for the incriminating papers, he opened the door to find Cornfoot standing there.

“Mr Weasley,” The Unspeakable greeted him. “I would like to run the Detectosphere again.”

The Detectosphere was an instrument used for identifying the magical traces on objects (and people, in Ron’s case). It was a large machine with golden circular beams that rotated around the object, making the magic aura to be visually seen. While he was explaining it to Ron, Cornfoot placed an amulet on the platform and activated the machine. The beams started to rotate, and a golden glowing light started to appear around the amulet.

“This amulet has a very strong protection charm on it.” Cornfoot explained. “You can tell by the consistency and thickness of the aura. The gold colour indicates it would protect the wearer from mental, magical and physical assault. A very capable spell-caster charmed this amulet.”

“Who created it?” Ron had asked, but Cornfoot never gave him a reply.

But when they tried testing Ron with the Detectosphere, it didn’t work properly. Rather, the contraption itself worked fine, but Cornfoot and Aston had trouble trying to see any traces of magic past Ron’s own, which radiated from him in red and yellow swirls. Over the last few weeks, Cornfoot had tried adjusting the detection ranges, but so far with little success.

 

Cornfoot led Ron back into the room, where Alton was already preparing the machine. He waved at Ron, who nodded politely back. Cornfoot turned to Ron and held out a phial of potion. It looked black and sludgy, and completely unappetising. “I want you to drink this Ron. It’s a magic suppressant.”

“Magic suppressant?” Ron repeated, swirling the phial, watching the black liquid slowly creep up the sides of the glass. “So it… What, makes me a Muggle?!”

“Hardly.” Cornfoot’s nose twitched. “Your magic will be reduced to a minimalised state. Something akin to a Squib, I’d theorise.”

“You’d _theorise?”_ Ron repeated, growing even more uneasy. “There haven’t been any tests done of this?”

“It’s an unethical potion, not commonly used even to contain dangerous wizards. There is no set time-frame of when the drinker will regain their full power. Studies have varied from minutes to days. I have only now received authorisation from the Wizengamot to use it now on you.”

Ron gritted his teeth, biting back a scathing remark on Cornfoot’s comment. With no other choice, he uncorked the phial and downed the liquid in one go. At first when it ran over his tongue it was tasteless, then a bitter aftertaste hit, causing Ron to gag. Coughing, Ron looked desperately around for something else to drink.

“Blimey, this is awful.” He gasped.

“It will start to take effect in a couple of minutes. Please tell me of any changes you feel.” Cornfoot said, ignoring his complaints.

A minute ticked by and Ron felt no different. Maybe it wasn’t working properly? Ron yawned. He was so tired, he really should have slept more last night, but he had stayed up thinking about what happened in the Atrium, his mind replaying it over and over. Ron yawned again and brought his hand up to stifle it. Merlin, he felt sluggish. His arm didn’t even feel like it belonged to his body. In fact, his whole body felt wrong.

“Hey, I think something is happening,” Ron said. “I’m really tired and my body… It doesn’t feel like my body!”

Cornfoot nodded. “Yes, this is your magic being suppressed. The magical energy that normally surges through your body has disappeared, and you are feeling its sudden absence. Your reaction is common to the potion working.”

“No wonder Filch was a miserable git, if he felt like this all the time.” Ron yawned again.

“Alton, is the Detectosphere ready?” Cornfoot asked, steering Ron towards the platform.

“Yes, sir! Just starting it up now!” Alton said enthusiastically.  

Swaying on the spot in the middle of the platform, Ron watched through weary eyes as the golden beams started spinning slowly around him. Nothing happened for several seconds, but then very faint colours appeared around him. Red blotches were hovering around him, pulsating slightly. There were large white shards of magic, spinning around his head. A yellow chain circled around his ankles, twisting up to wrap around his torso. Smothering all of this was an ominous dark cloud of magic, slowly swirling around him.

The beams slowed down, and the auras disappeared. Ron looked to Cornfoot and Alton who had matching faces of confusion.

“Sir…” Alton said. “I don’t get it…”

Cornfoot said nothing for several seconds. “… I don’t either. I’ve never seen that combination of magic used before, not for Time Travel.”

“The yellow chain was clearly Time Travel magic,” Alton said.

“But the rest of it wasn’t. I don’t think the spell cast in Weasley’s time was intended to have been for Time Travel. I think it was a side-effect of a botched spell.” Cornfoot rushed over the table in the corner covered in scrolls and quills. “You can leave, Weasley!”

Still in a daze, Ron slowly stepped down off the platform and left the room. He started to walk back to his room, but it was so far away, and the library was closer. Ron had barely collapsed on the sofa amongst the piles of books before falling into a deep sleep.

 

“Oi! Rise and shine you lazy dung-head!” Cold water splashed onto Ron’s head. Yelling out, Ron flailed wildly in alarm, losing his balance on the sofa and falling painfully onto the floor. Laughter above him caused him to look up, where he saw Auror Gallagher looming over him.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Ron grumbled, lifting himself up onto the sofa. Despite his sudden awakening, he was already feeling much better than before. The potion must have already worn off, which was a relief! He didn’t particularly fancy spending the rest of his life as a Squib.  

“Came to visit you,” The man said, sitting down opposite him. “I haven’t seen you since Cornfoot locked you up down here, and I figured I had better see if he hadn’t _accidentally_ killed you. For the greater good, or something.” He scowled.

“Nah, but he tried to make me a Squib earlier,” Ron told him, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gallagher frowned. “What?”

“He made me drink this potion. A magic suppressant.”

“He must be desperate to send you back,” Gallagher commented. “Resorting to illegal potions.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “He said the Wizengamot gave him permission to use it.”

“Oh and I’m sure they did.” Gallagher waved his hand flippantly. “Just the same way all my Aurors are able to cast the Unforgivable Curses. Doesn’t make it right, though.”

“How… are the Aurors going? With the fight against Grindelwald? I’ve been reading the papers, when Alton can smuggle them to me.”

“Our numbers are low, and dwindling each day. Each battle against his forces, fewer return. We can hang on for a few more years at this rate, I just hope with every fibre of my being it doesn’t need to last that long.”

Ron was surprised at Gallagher’s honesty but was touched by it. After the disaster that happened with Riddle and Alton, it was nice to be trusted. Maybe Ron could use this…? “You know…” He said hesitantly. “I’m a trained Auror.”

Gallagher raised an eyebrow. “I know you are.”

“So, if you needed a hand with anything…”

Gallagher laughed. “My _daughter_ has more subtlety when she’s trying to get me to buy her something from Sugarplums! Besides, Cornfoot is in charge of you, not me.”

“But maybe you could convince him!” Ron pressed. “You just said you need more Aurors! And I’m here, already trained _with_ fighting experience!”

“Cornfoot has said about hundred times that he doesn’t want you interacting with this period. I’m fairly sure dropping you into the middle of a battle would fall under this category.”

“It doesn’t have to be right in the _middle_ of battle! Minor jobs, like scouting or security. Things you really can’t spare the Aurors for, but have to do anyway!”

Gallagher rubbed his chin, considering Ron’s proposal. “And what do you get out of this arrangement? If I could theoretically convince Cornfoot to actually let you out of here?”

“I won't be stuck in here anymore,” Ron said. “I’m going barmy being locked up! I just need to get out and _do_ something, that’s all.”

“I _do_ really need more Aurors. And you are correct, someone trained with experience would be a blessing right now.” Gallagher was silent for a few moments. “Alright, let me see what I can do.”

“Yes! Oh Merlin’s frilly knickers, I love you, Gallagher!” Ron tried to hug the man, who deftly pushed him away.

“Alright, calm yourself, I’m married you know.” He said, standing up. “I’ll have a chat with Cornfoot and see what I can do.”

_Yes, yes, yes!_ Ron bounced around the room excitedly after Gallagher was gone. This was perfect! Exactly what he needed to get out of here! Do a couple of missions, gain Gallagher’s trust as a competent Auror and BAM! Tom Riddle was dead! Okay, so he was also going to have to flesh out the middle bit, but he had a least a few months up his sleeve before the Basilisk starts attacking Muggle-borns to think of something.

“ARE YOU MAD?!” Ron heard Cornfoot bellow from the other room. Seems like Gallagher asked him already. Ron pressed his ear to the door, trying to listen in. He heard Gallagher’s muffled response, then growing footsteps. Ron backed away from the door just in time as Alton swung it open, his face furious.

“What are you doing?” The young man hissed at him.  

“Getting out of here.” Ron said coldly.

“I know what you’re going to do.” Alton said. “I never told Cornfoot about what happened in the Atrium. I – I didn’t want to get in trouble, I guess. But I _will_ tell him now. I can’t let you do this, Ron.”

“I’m not going after Riddle.” Ron lied. “I just can’t stay locked up in here, anymore.”

Alton narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you.”

Ron tried again. “Look, I know I got angry and said some things the other day, but I was just… overwhelmed. I lost my head. Even if I _managed_ to get close enough to kill him, somehow, I will end up corrupting my time. I have a great life and family, and I don’t want to do something that would prevent that from ever happening… again.”

Alton continued to glare at Ron. “And what about how _You-Know-Who_ had killed your family members? Don’t you want to save them?”

Ron’s jaw clenched, thinking about Fred. “There are good things too. I have the most wonderful girlfriend and the greatest friend I could ever ask for. I don’t want to accidently lose them.” Alton’s expression didn’t change, and Ron felt his stomach sink.

Gallagher entered the room, arms open wide. “Pack your bags Weasley! You’re out of here!”

“What?!” Both Ron and Alton said at the same time.

 “But… You can’t!” Alton objected.

“Cornfoot has agreed that Weasley can come work for me on minor jobs until you’ve figured out how to send him back. Nothing along the front lines of course, that’s too dangerous, but just the small jobs I don’t have the men to properly address right now.” Alton looked at Gallagher like he just saw the man kick a puppy, but he didn’t say anything. Ron’s heart was beating rapidly; He was getting out of here!

“I’ll go pack up my stuff!” Ron exclaimed excitedly. “Wait, I need my wand.”

As if on cue, Cornfoot entered the room holding it, a sour look on his face. “Don’t make me regret my decision.” He warned, holding out the wand. Ron quickly grabbed it from his hand, feeling the warm tingle spread through his fingers. His wand missed him too!

In less than five minutes, Ron had his robes and notes shoved into a small suitcase. As he started following Gallagher out of the Department, he glanced at Alton. The man was staring unblinkingly at him, a frown still creasing his forehead and his lips turned down. Cornfoot hasn’t come chasing after him, so Alton must not have said anything while Ron was packing.

The door to the Department of Mysteries shut behind Ron, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“First, we’ve got to get you set up somewhere,” Gallagher said, leading him down the corridor. “The Department can cover rent costs for a small unit until we work out your pay. Then, we’ll need to get your training organised.”

“Yeah, no worries- Wait, what?” Ron gushed. “Training? I don’t need training.”

A smug grin appeared on Gallagher’s face. “Don’t you remember what I said? If you were one of mine, I’d make you do Occulmency training? I’m not sending you out into the field with your current skills!”

Ron slowly felt his heart sink into his stomach. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If the scene at the beginning was confusing, it’s the first part of the mini story of how Ron came back in time. Originally, I was going to have Ron discover it on his own throughout the story, but I felt like it really messed with the flow of everything else. Instead, I’m just going to include these little snapshots at the start of every other chapter, so by the end (if I’ve worked out the chapters correctly, hahaha), it will have looped back to the start of the fic.


	3. Hogwarts and a Hippogriff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I’m not sure if this is something I need to warn for, but there is a tiny amount of homophobia (and internalised homophobia) in this chapter. I haven’t tagged it because it is minor and plays no part in shaping the fic/plot. It’s not something I want to address with this fic, so what’s in this chapter should be all there is.

 

Ron sat in the corner of the Leaky Cauldron nursing a pint of beer. The pub was relatively quiet even on a weeknight, with only a few patrons dotted around the bar and at tables. Ron took a sip of the bland alcohol and grimaced. He really should move onto a Firewhisky after, this beer really wasn’t doing anything for him.  

For the last two weeks, Gallagher had been personally training him in Occulmency since they both agreed that allowing anyone else to see Ron’s memories would be unwise and would probably bring Cornfoot’s wrath down on them. Very quickly however, Ron learnt just how ruthless the man could be, and there was no doubt in his mind of why Gallagher was the Head Auror. Rather than going through the usual practice of pointing his wand at Ron and saying _Legilimens_ , Gallagher had taken to jumping out at Ron at random times during the day; sneaking up on him, and even hiding underneath an Invisibility Cloak in order to trip him up! And not a single Auror who had witnessed Gallagher’s actions even battered an eyelash!

By the end of the two weeks, Ron was walking around permanently on edge, constantly keeping one eye out for the other man. He was even starting to wonder if he was turning into Mad-Eye Moody, with his _‘Constant Vigilance!’_ On the final morning, Gallagher had surprised Ron in the Department kitchen, hiding as a transfigured floor lamp. Ron effortlessly blocked his spell without even acknowledging the man and Gallagher, lamp shade still on his head, proudly declared Ron fit for duty. 

Ron had perked up that instant, ready to finally go into the field and Gallagher presented Ron with his first mission.

Muggle watching.

He had to sit in a bloody park opposite some royal Muggle’s house and watch them. See who came in and out. See if anyone _suspicious_ was in the area. At first, Ron thought _everyone_ was suspicious. All kinds of Muggles were stopping outside the fence and pointing at the huge Palace. Maybe some were actually wizards and were inspecting the magical charms around the building? But Ron soon learnt that, no, they weren’t wizards. They were all just Muggle tourists and this was something on their checklist of things to do while visiting London.

It was now the 10th of September, Ron had been stationed outside the Palace for several days and had nothing to report back. Riddle had been back in Hogwarts for over a week now, and Ron was no closer to stopping him than he had been while he was locked inside the Department of Mysteries.

 

Ron drained the last of his beer and signalled to the bartender. “A Firewhisky now, Tom.”

“Coming right up!” The man waved his wand and Ron’s empty pint disappeared.

What was he going to do? Should he just Apparate into Hogsmeade and… do what? Break down the doors of Hogwarts, wand waving? Ron rested his head against the table. Maybe he should focus on the Riddle family and the Gaunts instead? He now has access to the Gaunts’ records, so he’d be able to find out where they lived. He could set up some kind of security watch and observe to see if anyone (or thing) magical trespassed onto the land?

No, Ron had to focus on the Chamber first. He only had a few months before Riddle opened it and the Basilisk killed Moaning Myrtle. He had to stop that from happening because that was the death Riddle used to create his first Horcrux. Maybe when the attacks start, Ron could convince Gallagher to let him go investigate? And maybe Ron just happens to find Riddle in the Chamber? They fight and oh whoops, Riddle’s incapacitated. There’s the matter of a living Basilisk to deal with, but Harry killed it in his second year, surely Ron would be able to defeat the giant snake too?

“If you’re slowing down after a pint, I don’t think you’re ready for Firewhisky.” Tom’s voice said above him.

Ron sat up, rubbing the red mark forehead. “Nah, it’s just had a long week. Work’s been… draining.”

“What do you do?” The bartender asked conversationally, placing the glass on the table. “I haven’t seen you before and I have an eye for faces.”

“Auror. Just started.”

Tom’s eyes widened. “Really? Bad time to start that profession.”

“Yeah, well, someone has to do it.”

“You’re a braver man than many. You know what, this drink’s on me. For keeping us all safe for another day.”

A wide grin stretched on Ron’s face. “Blimey, thanks mate!”

The bartender waved off Ron’s gratitude. “Just don’t tell anyone. I’ll be out of business in a week if it keeps up. It’s slow enough as it is, with the war.”

“You’ll be fine,” Ron assured him. “For another… fifty years at least.”

“…Thanks?” Tom said hesitantly. “I sure hope the pub lasts that long!”

“It definitely will.”

“Alright well, just call out if you need anything else.” Tom walked away, leaving Ron with his thoughts again. Something had to happen, and soon. If going through the Aurors wasn’t going to work out, Ron was going to have to come up with a Plan B. Alone in the Leaky Cauldron, Firewhisky in his hand, Ron tried to think of a new idea. 

 

The next morning Ron sat along the fountain opposite the great Palace staring at the Muggles forever gawking up at the building. He was going to have to leave today, he had decided. He couldn’t keep staying here, doing this useless job. He was just going to have to get up and Apparate to the Forbidden Forest, and just… camp out. While avoiding the centaurs. And vampires. And whatever else Hagrid no doubt had hidden in there already. But at least Aragog’s family hadn’t moved in yet, which was a huge bonus! And if Ron was successful, the giant spider never will! Wait, that means that Hagrid still had Aragog inside the castle – Urgh! Ron shivered in disgust, imagining that giant thing with its hairy legs scurry along the castle corridors. Ron rubbed his arms, feeling phantom spiders crawl along his skin.

A movement out of the corner of his eye caught Ron’s attention. He turned just in time to see an owl land on the top branches of a nearby tree. Ron looked around. None of the Muggles seemed to have noticed it. Standing up, Ron quickly walked over to the park and looked up into the branches. Staring straight down at him was a tawny owl with a letter in its beak. The bird opened its beak, dropping the letter down to Ron. The letter slowly fluttered down and Ron fruitlessly tried to catch it mid-air, only ending up battering it away.

Swearing, Ron bent over and picked up the letter. The envelope was blank, but inside was a sheet of parchment with a single line written.

 

_Return to my office for a debriefing. – G_

 

Ron stared at the parchment, feeling a stab of panic in his chest. Did Gallagher know? Did he know Ron was planning on leaving today? Had he been hiding here too and seen Ron’s thoughts? Should he ignore the letter and leave as he had planned?

After several minutes of debating, Ron decided he should go back to Gallagher. The chances of him actually knowing were slim. After his training in Occulmency, Ron was fairly certain the Auror wouldn’t have been able to pick up stray thoughts from him. Folding the letter up and placing it in his pocket, Ron steeled his nerves and headed back to the Ministry.  

 

“Weasley! Come in!” Gallagher greeted him as he knocked on the door to the Head Auror’s office. “Sit down.” Ron slowly sank into the chair opposite Gallagher’s desk. “I have a new task for you. It’s a long shot, but I don’t want to take the risk and let it be proven correct. I want you to man security along the borders of Hogwarts.”

It took Ron several seconds to process what Gallagher had said. “Wait, what?”

“Hogwarts. Scout the perimeter. Look out for Grindelwald’s men.”

“You think Grindelwald’s going to attack Hogwarts?” Ron asked in alarm.

“Well if I knew that, I wouldn’t be putting you out there.” Gallagher said gruffly. “As I said, it’s a long shot. I’ve had an intel report with information that implies Grindelwald has some interest at Hogwarts. There has been no other information matching this, so as I said, it’s a long shot.”

“I don’t remember Grindelwald attacking Hogwarts…” Ron mused. “But I guess if he’s after Dumbledore he might.”

“Dumbledore?” Gallagher’s eyes widened. “As in Albus Dumbledore? What does _he_ have to do with this?” Gallagher’s voice dropped. “Is this your _future_ information?”

Ron silently cursed himself. “Well… You know about him and Grindelwald, yeah?” Gallagher didn’t say anything, only stared at Ron waiting for him to continue and Ron cursed himself again. “I don’t know if I should say too much. I mean, it’s not a big deal…. Really.”

“But you think it's reason enough for Grindelwald to attack Hogwarts? Weasley, I _need_ you to tell me what you know about this. This could change the fate of the war.”

Ron fidgeted. “It’s not a big deal! I don’t remember Grindelwald attacking Hogwarts!” He repeated. “It’s all going to work out, this war. We win in the end.”

The look Gallagher gave him at those words chilled him to the bone. “From the way you spoke before, about the Dark Wizard from your time, that _You-Know-Who,_ I thought you understood. Grindelwald is _killing_ us. Every day innocent people are dying, and not just wizards anymore. The Muggles are getting caught up in it, too. You have been at war Weasley. You know what is being lost every second it continues.”

Ron felt his resolve crumble underneath Gallagher’s words. “I honestly don’t remember much,” He said hesitantly. “Only that Dumbledore and Grindelwald used to be… friends. This whole ‘ _For the Greater Good’_ thing; that was created by the pair of them when they were younger. Grindelwald’s mental, but Dumbledore did it because of what happened to his sister. But then she died, and Dumbledore realised it was wrong and backed out. He’s going to be the one to stop Grindelwald. The pair of them will duel, and Dumbledore wins. It’s what he becomes famous for. He’s got his own Chocolate Frog Card and everything.” 

Gallagher was still staring at Ron, but his expression had softened. “Thank you for telling me, Weasley. This is valuable information.” Ron looked down at his hands, not sure he just did the right thing.  “The mission still stands.” Gallagher continued. “I want you to scout the perimeters of Hogwarts and report back anything suspicious. Do not engage with the students, they are not to know you are there. I will alert Headmaster Dippet so he and the other Professors are aware of your presence and will not alarm them.”

“Right,” Ron said. Hogwarts. He was going to Hogwarts. Wait, does Gallagher know…? Ron looked up at the Auror, but his expression wasn’t telling. Gallagher had just proven he wants Ron using his knowledge to improve things in this decade, and consequently the future. Gallagher _knows_ that You-Know-Who is a student at Hogwarts, could he be setting Ron up for it? To take down Tom Riddle?

“Anything else, Weasley?” Gallagher asked, snapping Ron from his thoughts.

“N-No, sir.” Ron stuttered.

“Get going then.” Gallagher dismissed him.

 

*             *             *

 

Excitement was bubbling inside Ron by the time he arrived on the outskirts of Hogwarts. Gallagher, whether the man knew it or not, had presented Ron this perfect opportunity on a silver platter! Ron could go ahead with his self-appointed mission of stopping Riddle and _not_ be a wanted criminal! Well, he might be _after,_ depending on if there’s a confrontation and the outcome of said confrontation. But that was the worst case scenario. Besides, spending the rest of his life in Azkaban for stopping You-Know-Who is more than worth it.  

Ron shook his head to clear such thoughts. He’d better focus on the task at hand first. Quickly setting up his tent on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest near the Lake (there shouldn’t be many students coming by this area), Ron started to work on the perimeter defences. It would be impossible for him to cast protective spells over a large area such as Hogwarts, and even if he could, it wouldn’t be necessary. Grindelwald didn’t attack Hogwarts, Ron knew this for a fact.

Instead, Ron had picked up a ball of Alarm-Yarn on his way out of the office. As the name might imply, it was a ball of magically woven thread, that once activated, will alert the caster if it breaks. Ron decided the best place to string it up would be in the Forbidden Forest. Just that morning, he was planning to camp out in it, so maybe others would have the same idea? He just needed to work out a good distance in. Too close to the grounds and a wandering student would trigger it, but too far in would probably be from a centaur.

Standing just far enough in so the canopy of the forest starts to conceal the sunlight, Ron activated the Yarn, making it glow gold. Satisfied, Ron started unravelling it. The string instantly came to life, snaking out along the ground and wrapping itself between the trees like a golden tripwire. Slowly leading the string through the forest, it took Ron several hours before he was happy with his trap. He didn’t see any magical creatures, which was good! Hopefully he won’t have any false alarms from the students now.

Tucking the remainder Yarn in his robe pocket, Ron started to take a walk around the outskirts of the school's grounds. The weather was starting to get chilly, even though it was early afternoon. But even without a cloak, Ron found it didn’t bother him too much. Staring up at the great castle, it felt like he was being punched in the gut with nostalgia. Ron didn’t realise until now, just how much he had missed Hermione and Harry. The last month or so, he hadn’t given them much thought outside of memories forced from his mind with Legilimency, and now Ron felt overwhelmed by guilt.

Following a path to Hagrid’s hut, Ron was momentarily confused when he saw a tiny wooden house in its place. Of course, Hagrid was a student here too right now! Merlin, a teenage Hagrid. Now _that_ Ron wanted to see. Maybe he could spy on him when he has Herbology? Even as a kid, Hagrid would have towered over all the other students.

“Yeh alright there?” A gruff voice asked.

A middle-aged, bald man was standing not far from Ron holding a rake. The man had the teeth of the rake facing Ron that made him wonder if it was intentionally hostile.

“I’m an Auror,” Ron called back. “I’m just here to watch over the school.”

“An Auror, eh? Wasn’t told ‘bout no _Auror.”_  

Ron frowned. “Head Auror Gallagher sent a message to the Headmaster. He was to pass the message on to all the staff. I’m just here for security; I’m not going to interfere with anything.”

The man grunted. “Fine then.” And started to walk to the wooden shack.

“Wait, who are you?”

“Ogg.” The man said, not looking back.

“Are you… the Grounds Keeper?”

“Yep.” Ogg grunted.

“And… You’re not going to double check? To make sure I’m telling the truth?”

“Dippet told us a ginger haired Auror was going to be hangin’ ‘bout. That’s you, an’it?”

Ron ran up to the man, falling by his side. “Wait, what? You just said before you _didn’t_ know about me!”

“’Course I did. Ain’t stupid.”

“… Right.” This must be the man who was the Keeper before Hagrid. Ron wondered if Ogg trained Hagrid up, it might explain some of the _roughness_ to Hagrid. The part that wasn’t, you know, half-giant. “Hey, Ogg. Have you seen anything funny about the school?”

Ogg grunted. “Nothing out the usual.”

“I’m here to look out for Grindelwald’s spies. We believe Grindelwald might have some interest in Hogwarts.”

“Haven’t seen no spies in the grounds.” Ogg said as they reached the small house.

“Right. Well, if you do see anything unusual at all, come tell me.”

“Sure.” Ogg shut the door in Ron’s face.

“Yeah, no worries…”

Ron didn’t have any more run-ins that afternoon. He did watch a bunch of first or second years (He guessed by their height) racing to Herbology, and then later one of the Houses practice Quidditch on the field. Everything seemed normal.

 

The next morning, Ron was searching for tracks not far into the Forbidden Forest. The weather was lovely; there was only the smallest amount of drizzle when he woke, leaving behind the earthy, fresh scent that always came after rain. Now the clouds had rolled past, leaving blue skies, lighting up the forest with natural sunlight. Pushing aside some freshly fallen leaves with his shoe, Ron peered down at the ground. He saw a partially concealed print that looked like… a hoof. _Why_ did there have to be centaurs in the forest?! Ron swore.

A high-pitched scream cut through Ron’s thoughts, making his head snap up harshly. Ears straining, he heard a second scream coming from back towards the castle. Not even pausing to think, Ron pulled out his wand and raced towards the sound. Heart thudding in his ears, he could barely hear the crunching of leaves and twigs under his feet as he ran. As the forest thinned, he could see a group of students between the trees, panicking.

“Back off! Everyone back up! Do _not_ look at her in the eye!”

Ron burst out of the forest, where he found the students cowering and a raging Hippogriff, thrashing its head and snapping. Standing between them was an elderly man with his arms outright. “Easy there girl, you’re alright.”

The Hippogriff let out a loud screech and reared up on its hind legs. Time seemed to slow down in Ron’s eyes. The elderly man gasped and fell backwards and several students screamed in horror. The _Incarcerous_ spell was on the tip of Ron’s tongue, but as he saw the powerful wings beat, he knew the ropes wouldn’t be able to hold and would only anger the Hippogriff further.

_“Accio_ old man!” Ron cried out. The Professor was dragged along the ground towards Ron just as the Hippogriff’s claws landed where he was moments before. The man continued to get pulled by the spell until he stopped at Ron’s feet. The Hippogriff, seeing Ron, stamped the ground, but didn’t advance.

“It’s going to charge! Run!” One of the students yelled out and in a herd, they all fled screaming hysterically. One boy in the group was shoved roughly to the ground, where he curled up in a ball with his arms over his head as his classmates trampled past him. 

Making sure the beast stayed in his sight, Ron bent over the old professor. “You alright there?”

“... Merlin, I’m getting too old for this.” The old man said, trying to sit up. Hooking his arm underneath the man’s elbow, Ron hurled him up onto his feet.

“Alright, alright, calm down Lizzy, no-one’s going to hurt you.” The man turned to the Hippogriff. He pulled out a dead ferret from his robes and held it out to the beast. “That’s right, I’ve got a lovely ferret here for you.” The Hippogriff seemed to calm down at the sight of food, and hesitancy sniffed the man’s outstretched hand. In one smooth motion, it snapped the ferret from his hand.

As the old man calmed the Hippogriff, Ron turned back to the student who was still curled up on the ground, only his messy brown hair was visible. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched the boy’s shoulder lightly. “You okay, kid?” The boy flinched, and slowly peered up at Ron through his arms. His face was deathly pale, and lip shaking. Eyes darting around, the boy locked onto the Hippogriff that the old man was now trying to fit a collar on.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Ron said, patting the boy on the shoulder again. “The old – err… The Professor has it under control.”

The boy still looked shaken, but he nodded and slowly stood up. As he tugged his bag up onto his shoulder, the bag split open and the contents tumbled out: Books; rolls of parchment; quills, and – Ron’s face went red spotting something that men didn’t use. The boy quickly shoved everything back into his bag, his own face flaming.

“I-It’s okay.” Ron stuttered, trying to lessen the boy’s embarrassment. “My girlfriend uses those too. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about!” He could feel his own face getting hotter. “I once had to go out to Diagon Alley and buy some for her in the middle of the night! And it was completely fine, I mean I didn’t know which type she wanted, there’s like a bajillion different ones, but the lady working there picked out these ones for me, and – ” If asked to choose whose face was redder, Ron’s or the boy’s, it would have been impossible. Between the pair of them, they could have fried up a hearty breakfast of bacon and eggs.    

“She’s not my girlfriend.” The boy said quietly, cutting Ron off.

“Eh? Oh, well, yeah, that’s fine too! Friends carry each other’s stuff all the time!”

The boy suddenly shot Ron a withering look that made him pause his rambling. “She’s not my friend either, she just makes me carry her things.”

“Nott? What are you doing here?” The old Professor asked, making his way over to them. Behind him, the Hippogriff was successfully tethered to a tree, feasting on another ferret.

“Sorry Professor, I fell.” The boy, Nott, said avoiding the teacher’s eye.

“Oh don’t apologise boy, I’m glad you’re okay!” The man turned to Ron. “Silvanus Kettleburn,” He held out his hand, and Ron shook it. “And you must be the Auror.”

“Ron Weasley.”

Kettleburn looked him over critically. “Yeah, you’re definitely a Weasley. Don’t remember teaching you though.”

“Errr… I was home-schooled.”

“Really? Well, I thank your parents for raising such a fine young man. Not just anyone would have come to our rescue, and not only that, you didn’t try hurt Lizzy!” Ron felt his heart swell at Kettleburn’s compliment, and tried to thank the man, but he seemed to have worked himself up. “Hippogriffs are misunderstood creatures!” Kettleburn began ranting.  “They’re intelligent, and aren’t naturally hostile! She panicked because Miss Walburga screamed, that’s all!”

Ron found himself grinning. “Believe me, I’ve got a friend who thinks the same thing about them.”

Kettleburn smiled back at him, his eyes crinkling. “Well, we had best be off. Let’s go, Nott, we’ve got to go round up your friends before the start of next class! I think I see some of them over at Ogg’s hut...”   

 

The rest of the day was uneventful after the morning’s excitement. He watched first years getting taught Quidditch, and had to stop himself from racing over to show them how to sit properly on the broom and the best way to grip the handle. As the sun started to set and an orange glow was being cast across the grounds, Ron was amusing himself by levitating sandwich slices above the Great Lake, taunting the Giant Squid.

“Whoa!” Ron exclaimed as a tentacle burst out of the water, snatching the sandwich and dragging it under.

“I can’t imagine the Squid eats sandwiches often, it must be a delicacy to it.” A soft voice said behind Ron, sending a rush of cold ice down his back. Ron spun around, wand raised to find himself face to face with Tom Riddle. The boy smiled at Ron, not at all fazed by the wand pointing straight at his head. The shiny Prefect’s badge on his chest was glimmering in the evening light.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you, Mr Weasley.” He said, voice ever pleasant.

“What do you want?” Ron growled out, lowering his wand only slightly. 

Riddle blinked in surprise at Ron’s tone. “There’s a story going around the entire school of Professor Kettleburn being saved by an Auror this morning. The Auror single-handedly defeated a rampaging Hippogriff, saving both Kettleburn and his students. Imagine my surprise when I found out his name was Ron Weasley.”

Ron frowned. “That’s not what happened.”

Riddle shrugged. “That’s what everyone’s saying.”

The sound of the water lapping at the shore was almost deafening as neither of them spoke. What was Riddle doing here?! Ron hadn’t even come up with a proper plan yet, getting too caught up in his own excitement and nostalgia of returning to Hogwarts. And Riddle was now suddenly here, seeking him out?!

“It’s almost dark, you’d better get back to the castle. It’s not safe at night out here.” Ron tried.

Riddle smiled again. “I can’t imagine anywhere safer than with an Auror.” Ron’s frown only deepened. What was he playing at? “I didn’t know you were one. An Auror, I mean. Seeing you at the Ministry with Alton, I assumed you were working with the Department of Mysteries.”

“Yeah, I’m an Auror.” Ron said brashly. “And I’ve got plenty of experience fighting Dark Wizards. And Dark Creatures.”

Riddle’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Do you?”

“That’s right. My friend and I even killed a Basilisk once. It was set loose and petrifying people, but we stopped it.”

As soon as the words left Ron’s mouth, he knew it was a mistake. Riddle hadn’t moved an inch, but his eyes bore into Ron’s with an intensity that made Ron freeze up. A thick, terrifying energy was smothering him, clamping around his throat, clogging his nose and ears, and filling his head with a loud buzzing.

“I’m curious, Mr Weasley,” Riddle said, his speech was slow and forced. “What have I done to cause your intense _dislike_ for me? _”_ The carefully constructed persona Riddle created for himself at Hogwarts; the quiet, studious boy that wooed so many Professors and students alike, was slipping. Standing before Ron was the true Tom Riddle. The one who would one day become the most feared Dark Wizard in the world.

“I don’t know what you mean…” He said hoarsely, barely able to hear himself over the buzzing.

“We've only met once,” Riddle continued, his voice cold. “And you looked at me with the same look of hatred and fear you do now. I want to know _why.”_

Ron swallowed thickly, his heart was racing and the buzzing in his head got louder. What should he do? Should he just curse him now?! Ron still had his wand drawn on him, and Riddle didn’t have his out. Ron shook his head, he couldn’t think. The buzzing was almost a ringing sound, reverberating around in his head. Wait…

Ron’s head snapped towards the forest. His Alarm-Yarn had been triggered! “Get back to the castle!” He growled at the boy.   

“Why? What’s going on?” Riddle asked.

“Something has just triggered a trap I set up in the Forest. It might have been a giant spider or something, but it might _not_. So go back now!” Ron started to head towards the forest, stepping carefully. The stones crunching underneath his feet seemed to echo around the grounds.

Shuffling footsteps behind told him Riddle had ignored his instruction. “I’m coming with you.” The boy hissed, pulling out his wand. “If it _is_ something dangerous, then I don’t want to be caught out here on my own.”

Anger swelled up in Ron, fuelling his already volatile emotions towards the boy. “And here I thought you were one of the smartest students in Hogwarts.” He muttered under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Riddle turn to look at him. “I am walking _towards_ the potential danger,” Ron told him. “It is safer _away_ from it.”  

“Forgive me Mr Weasley, but I believe I’m safer by the side of an Auror, than alone.” Riddle replied, his voice equally snarky.

Ron swore colourfully. “I will not be responsible for you being a thick-head! If you die in there, it’s your own fault!”

The pair reached the edge of the forest. The Yarn was triggered not too far in from here. They could come across whatever done it at any time. “Wand out. Get behind me. Don’t cast anything, unless I tell you.” Ron whispered to Riddle. The boy nodded. They slowly crept through the forest, the dry leaves crunching underneath their feet. Ron paused briefly to cast a muffling spell on them, before pressing on.

Not far in, Ron found the golden Yarn, broken clean between two trees. A sharp snap came from the side, and both of them spun around. It was close. Riddle looked at Ron wide-eyed, and Ron gestured him to hide behind a tree. With their backs pressed against the trunk, they heard the shuffling getting closer. Human. It was definitely a person walking towards them. Ron bit his lip, thinking quickly. It could be an intruder, but it was more than likely a student or Professor, which would be _very bad_ if he fired off a powerful spell blindly. But as soon as he reveals himself, he’s lost a crucial advantage if it wasn’t.

Riddle was watching Ron carefully, who stared back unblinkingly. The footsteps were just behind the tree now. He was just going to have to do something and hope for the best. Ron nodded to Riddle, who returned it, gripping his wand tighter. Holding up three fingers, Ron counted down.

_Three… Two… One!_

_“Expelliarmus!”_ Ron shouted, jumping out from behind the tree. His spell missed wildly, but the flash lit up the darkened forest. A scruffy looking man with dirty blonde hair stood there, on his chest gleamed a large silver brooch: The Deathly Hallows.

_No,_ Ron thought. _Not the Hallows. Grindelwald._ Grindelwald was attacking Hogwarts.

The intruder shouted in alarm at Ron’s attack, his arms flailing. He quickly recovered, and sent a spell hurling towards Ron, who dodged it deftly.

_“Stupefy!”_ Ron’s spell ricocheted off the intruder’s shield, the magic slamming into a nearby tree, cracking the bark and sending splinters flying everywhere. Ron fired off another spell, but that too hit the shield again. Frustrated, Ron knew he had to make the intruder drop the shield quickly.

Dodging another spell, Ron pointed his wand at the ground. _“Defodio!”_ The ground shook, and started to part underneath the intruder’s feet. It wasn’t particularly orthodox to use in a duel, Ron _had_ learnt it from Bill; it was mostly used by Curse-Breakers and Tomb-Raiders to dig out… well, _tombs._

The intruder cried out in alarm and awkwardly jumped out of the way of the gorge below him. Ron cast another stunning spell at the man, which rippled across his shield… And broke it!

_“Petrificus Totalus!”_ The man’s body snapped straight like a board and he fell backwards, hitting the ground harshly. _“Incarcerous!”_ Ropes flew out of Ron’s wand and wrapped around the man. Just in case the Body-Binding spell broke suddenly.

Breathing heavily, Ron surveyed the area. It was quiet. He was alone, except for the intruder and… _Riddle!_ Ron spun around and saw the boy watching him from beside the tree. “What happened to you?” Ron snapped. “You didn’t even attack.”

“You seemed to have the situation under control.” Riddle replied, his expression far too innocent. 

Ron frowned and glanced back at the intruder. He had better report this to Gallagher quickly, so he could get back up. Reaching into his robes he pulled out a small pocket mirror. “Gallagher! Head Auror Wayne Gallagher!” He called into the mirror. A few moments passed, then Gallagher’s face appeared on the surface.

“Weasley? What’s happened?” Gallagher asked.

“Found an intruder in the Forbidden Forest. He Apparated in, I think.”

Gallagher let out a stream of profanities that would have made a Veela blush. “Is it one of Grindelwald’s men?”

“He’s wearing a Deathly Hallows badge. That’s Grindelwald’s symbol, isn’t it?”

“The Deadly what? It doesn’t matter. I’m sending some men there now. Did any civilians get hurt?”

Ron glanced at Riddle, who was still staring at him, listening to every word being said. “No. It was witnessed by a student, but he’s uninjured.”

Gallagher swore again. “Keep the student with you. We need to question him, too.”

Ron swallowed. “No problem.” The mirror went blank.

“The Aurors need to question me,” Riddle said softly. “I wonder what they will ask…”

The hairs on the back of Ron’s neck stood up. Ron glowered at Riddle, who simply cocked his head to the side, almost daring him to act. “They want a witness report of the attack.” Ron gritted out finally. “And they need to ensure that it remains confidential. We don’t need the Prophet reporting this. Not just yet.”

“Of course,” Riddle simply said.

 

Three Aurors appeared on Hogwarts grounds only minutes after Ron spoke to Gallagher. Dawlish was a burly man with a thousand-yard stare; Hopkins was an elderly lady who would sooner Hex you than bake cookies, and McLaggen. McLaggen was the splitting image of his most-probable grandson and Ron took an instant dislike to the man when they first met.

“Weasley,” They acknowledged. Dawlish and McLaggen walked over to the intruder still bound up on the ground and Hopkins went to Riddle.

“Are you okay, Mr…?”

“Riddle, ma’am.” Riddle said. “I’m completely unhurt. Mr Weasley ensured that I didn’t get caught up in their duel.”

Hopkin’s rose an eyebrow up at Ron. “What were you doing in the Forest, Mr Riddle?”

A faint blush appeared on Riddle’s cheeks. “I…” He stuttered. “I wasn’t in the Forest originally. I was on the grounds.”

“Same question applies.” Hopkins said, her voice steely. Ron felt a malicious delight bubbling inside of him, hearing Hopkins shut down Riddle like that. It was good to know _someone_ in this time wasn’t completely fooled by him!

“I…” Riddle tried again, blushing even harder. “I wanted to see Mr Weasley…” He said so softly Ron barely caught it. “He saved Professor Kettleburn today, and I wanted to thank him. Professor Slughorn warned me that no-one in the castle was meant to have any contact with him, but… I didn’t want him to think what he did wasn’t appreciated.”

Hopkin’s face softened and she patted Riddle on his shoulder. Behind them, Ron heard McLaggen snort. “Many things an Auror does goes without recognition Mr Riddle, we do not need to hear it. But your gesture was not unwelcome. Come on, boy. I’m going to escort you back to the castle and ask you some questions.”

Ron stared at Hopkins wide-eyed. _Did that actually just happen?!_ One sentence! One bloody stuttering, _FAKE_ sentence from Riddle and she too was wrapped around his finger! How could no-one see it was all an act?! _Wanting to thank me, my arse!_ Ron thought venomously.

“I’ll stay behind and guard the school grounds.” Dawlish said to her. “Alert the Headmaster to put the school on lockdown tonight.”

Hopkins nodded. “I will. I’ll join you out here shortly.” Hopkins gripped Riddle by the shoulder and started to steer him towards Hogwarts. “Let’s go, Mr Riddle.” Riddle cast Ron one last glance over his shoulder, before walking away with the Auror.

_“Well…”_ McLaggen drawled. _“Someone’s_ got for you, eh Weasley?”

“Piss off, McLaggen.” Ron snapped. To his side, he heard Dawlish make a grunting sound from the back of his throat.  

McLaggen barked out a laugh and kept talking. “I think if we weren’t here, that Riddle boy would come up with a whole new way of thanking you Wea –”

“I said SHUT IT, McLaggen!” Ron yelled at the other Auror, his whole face burning red. He could see Dawlish staring at him from the corner of his eye, his lip curled up in disgust, and Ron felt sick in his stomach.

McLaggen scowled. “Alright, keep your bloomin’ knickers on. Come on, you and I’ll get this dung heap back to the Ministry.” He kicked the intruder still on the ground.

Still humiliated, Ron silently watched McLaggen cast a Locomotion Charm on the immobile body, and followed him out of the school grounds. As they walked, the final rays of the sun sank beneath the earth, so Ron quietly cast _Lumos_ to guide them. Reaching past the boundaries of the school’s Anti-Apparation charm, McLaggen turned to him. “You ready, Weasley?”

Looking back at the illuminated castle in the distance, Ron found it difficult to speak. “Yeah… Yeah, let’s get going…” Grabbing hold of the floating intruder, the two Aurors Apparated in union, away from Hogwarts and back to the Ministry.  

  


	4. Christmas in the Ministry

 

_“What about you and Hermione?” Harry asked. “Have you thought about kids?”_

_They were crouching down behind a large rock in an open field, far up in the Scottish Highlands. There had been several reports of dark hooded figures seen around the area, practising some kind of magical ritual. At first, the rumours came from Muggles and were brushed off as being a standard case of a violation of the Statute of Secrecy. But when the Improper Use of Magic Department investigated, it seemed something much darker was going on. Traces of Dark Magic were spread all across the hillside; the remnants of powerful spells and rituals being performed. It then fell on the Aurors to investigate further, and Ron and Harry were appointed for the job._

_“Nah, Hermione’s too focused on her career right now,” Ron answered, shifting on his knees which had wet patches from the dewy grass. “Spew’s really taken off; A lot of people are eager to help her with it, which is good.”_

_“I think you mean S.P.E.W.” Harry’s serious tone was ruined by his lips quirking._

_Ron laughed quietly. “Yeah, that one. I’d like to, though. Have kids, I mean. I just don’t want to push her.”_

_“You should talk to her about it,” Harry advised. “So you both know what each other are thinking. It might not even be that different.”_

_“I think if… We had a kid, I'd leave the Aurors…” Ron said hesitantly. Harry turned to him silently, waiting for him to continue. “Hermione would keep working. And I wouldn't expect her to give up her career; I’m really proud of her you know, of what she’s doing. But I grew up with my Mum at home, so I was thinking I could…” Ron’s voice died off as faint popping sounds came from the other side of the rock._

*                *                *

 

Ron sat at his office desk, tapping his quill mindlessly on the paper. Paperwork was the one thing Ron hated about being an Auror, and after the event at Hogwarts, it was all he’d been given to do.

As soon as his feet touched the ground, the intruder was apprehended and hauled off to be interrogated. Ron had to wait for several hours for Gallagher to return so he could give his verbal report, by which time the adrenaline was long gone from his body and he could barely keep his eyes open. But despite his constant pauses to yawn, Gallagher listened intently to every word he said.

“I’m sorry, Weasley.” The man said after Ron had finished. “I truly believed that it was a menial mission I was giving you. If I had more information I wouldn’t have sent you there to begin with.”

Ron only shrugged. “It wouldn’t have made a difference if it was me or another Auror. That intruder was going to get caught. He was rubbish.” But it seemed that Gallagher wasn’t convinced and now had Ron working purely inside the Department rather than the field!

 Security at Hogwarts was tightened significantly, with both Aurors and the Enforcement Patrol posing as guards. Gallagher refused to let Ron go, in case Grindelwald sent another spy or even a bigger group, but as the months ticked by, no reports came.

Not even reports of students being attacked by a dangerous creature living inside the castle. He kept waiting for it to happen. For the Auror on duty to call in that a Muggleborn had been petrified. The extra security around the castle must have spooked Riddle, Ron theorised. These were professionals; experts at dealing with Dark Magic, not a bunch of doddery old teachers he had convinced he was some golden child. He _would_ get caught with them there. He’d have to.

Ron scowled at his ink-spotted paper. All around the office, everyone ‘knew’ about Ron’s little admirer _._ When Hopkins returned, she _teased_ Ron about Riddle! How the boy had asked _so_ many questions about Ron. How he told a heroic story of Ron saving him from the Dark Wizard. About how skilled and powerful Ron was!

“He admires you, Weasley!” The old bat crooned at him. “You’re his _idol.”_

Ron wasn’t quite able to stop himself from sending a Bat-Bogey Hex at McLaggen who was roaring with laughter. It earned him even more paperwork, but was completely worth it in his opinion.  

 

So here he was on the evening of Christmas Eve, alone in the open office since all the other Aurors either had families to be with or were out in the field, now doodling stick figures playing Quidditch. Maybe he could take up Quidditch instead? Ron was positive the level he used to play at in Hogwarts was higher than the professional standard of this time. All he would need was a bit of practice to shake the rust off, and then he’d be the best Keeper in the league! Ron was used to playing with _much_ faster brooms than what existed right now, meaning he would have a huge advantage since his reflexes were suited to a faster game. Just last week Ron had nearly fallen over when he passed Quality Quidditch Supplies and saw in the window a Comet 140 with a ‘ _State of the art Breaking Charm!’_

A knock at the office door snapped Ron away from his daydream. The door creaked open and inside walked the very person causing him so much grief lately. Ron eyed the boy wearily. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve missed you, Mr Weasley.” Riddle said cheerfully. He was wearing a thick coat; large snowflakes were still on his shoulders and in his hair. “It’s been months since we last saw each other.”

“How did you even get into the Department?”

Riddle smiled smugly. “Well, the _lovely_ Receptionist outside was more than happy to let me through. She knew all about how much admiration I have for you, Mr Weasley. I hope you helped spread that little rumour around.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Ron snapped. “What were you playing at with that anyway?”

“It let me in here, for one. I don’t think that Miss Edith would normally let someone simply waltz in here without an appointment.” Riddle walked over to Ron’s desk, shrugging off his coat. Underneath he wore plain Muggle clothes; a well-worn sweater and trousers that were too short in the leg.

“And besides,” Riddle continued casually, “I thought you wouldn’t appreciate me telling that Auror what _really_ happened that night.” Riddle had a good point, Ron doesn’t want _anyone_ knowing the true nature of their conversation. If the faintest whisper reached Cornfoot’s ears, he would be locked back up in the Department of Mysteries quicker than he could say ' _Snape kills Dumbledore.’_

“I’ve had some time to think about you.”  

“T-Think about me?” Ron stuttered. “What do you mean?”

Riddle hummed nonchalantly, tracing a finger along Ron’s desk. “Well, I’ve realised that I know next to nothing about you, Mr Weasley. And that I would like to rectify it.”

Ron could almost see the pixies flying around Riddle’s head holding banners that said ‘DANGER’. His eyes darted around the room, unsure how to handle this. He needed to control this conversation, not Riddle. He had to make sure he didn’t say anything that could give Riddle hints of who he is, and what he really knew about the other. He looked down at his ink-blotted scribbles.  

“I like the Chudley Cannons.”

Riddle’s eyebrows shot up, looking genuinely surprised. “Is that a … Quidditch team?”

Ron nodded. “Yep, they’re the best team! They’re the real underdogs of the League, and you know everyone who supports them are loyal, not those fair-weather or bandwagon fans.”

“So they’re the losers then.”

“What?!” Ron exclaimed, immediately feeling anger build up inside of him. “No, they’re not! I mean, they’ve been struggling a bit, but every player on the team gives it their all, every game. They play with heart and for the love of the game, not for the fame or high-paying contracts, or any dung like that. Look!” Ron jumped up and ran over to McLaggen’s desk which had a copy of today’s Daily Prophet on it. Flicking to the sports section, Ron shoved it in Riddle’s face. Riddle took the paper, holding it back at a reasonable distance. “We only lost by 30 points! We were up 120 points, but the Magpies caught the Snitch!”  

Riddle shrugged, skimming over the article with a bored expression. “I don’t follow Quidditch, so I wouldn’t know. It seems nothing more than a waste of time – a poor form of entertainment for mindless dolts. All you do is spend an unconfirmed amount of time shouting at people flying on broomsticks.” 

“‘ _Mindle’ –_ It’s not mindless! Or boring! Have you even been to a game? It’s the best thing ever, standing in the crowd cheering for your team; the atmosphere is always incredible! And if you’ve got a beer, it’s always better! And beef pies! The best food in the world are the pies from the arena vendors when your team is up!”

Riddle had a faint smile on his face. “You seem like the type who’d like pie and beer.”

“Well, what food do you like then?” Ron said, feeling defensive.  

“Foie Gras.” Riddle replied instantly.

“When have you ever had a chance to eat that?!” Ron exclaimed incredulously. It certainly wasn’t something on the Hogwarts menu! “I’ve been to France, and I never even got to eat it there. Mainly because Hermione kept going on about animal cruelty. And the cost – it's bloody expensi –”

“Oh? When did you go to France?” Riddle cut in, his face lighting up with curiosity.

“Umm… A couple of years ago.” Ron said hesitantly. “With my girlfriend and her family…”

“Hermione’s your girlfriend?” Riddle asked, almost nonchalant, but there was a quiver of eagerness that Ron heard.  

“…Yeah,”

“Is she a Witch?”

Hearing Hermione’s name coming out of Riddle’s mouth made Ron feel sick in his stomach. His face must have been telling of his emotions because Riddle suddenly sighed. “There you go, back to normal.” The politely curious expression on the boy’s face disappeared and he frowned at Ron. “That’s actually what I came here to speak to you about. I want to continue our conversation from the Lake.”

“There’s nothing more to talk about…”

“I think there’s plenty.” Riddle cut him off sharply, and a painful silence grew between the pair of them.

“You know…” Riddle said finally. “You’re not very smart. Or powerful for that matter. In the Forest, your duelling techniques were sloppy. You had the element of surprise, which is no doubt what gave you the advantage against that man, but the skills you displayed don’t match your arrogance. I know you’re competent in Occumency, but it doesn’t save you from being overly emotional and brash. I can still read every expression as it passes over your face, even if I don’t know your thoughts.”

Riddle stepped up towards Ron, so close they were almost touching now. Ron dimly noted that Riddle had grown taller since the Forest. He was the same height as Ron now, their eyes locking levelly. “And yet…” Riddle’s voice had dropped to a murmur as he leant in and Ron felt his breath hit his face. “I don’t understand _why._ You hate me. You despise me with every ounce of your body. Just at the mention of your girlfriend, you closed off and have gone back to being hostile again, as if you’re worried I’m dangerous.”

“You are dangerous.” The words left Ron’s mouth before he could stop them.

Riddle leant back slightly. “Am I?” His tone was light, but Ron could see the young You-Know-Who behind his eyes.

Ron swallowed thickly. He couldn’t breathe properly. “It’s… It’s not just me. Other people can see it too,”

“The only person who suspects anything is Dumbledore, and that was because I was too young and foolish to –” Riddle cut himself off, glaring at Ron heatedly. “Are you a Seer?”

The air in Ron’s lungs was expelled with a burst of laughter. “Way off the mark there!”

For several long moments, Riddle watched Ron closely, his lips turned down in a frown. Finally, his expression softened. “Tell me, _Mr Weasley,”_ He purred out. “How often do you think about me?”

Ron backed away from Riddle but the boy followed him. Ron felt his legs hit the chair behind his desk, and he fell back into it. Riddle loomed over him, placing his hands on either side of the armrests, trapping Ron.

“I thought about you every day,” Riddle confessed. “Every day I would find out which Aurors were on duty, to see if it was you. I even went back to that … _Muggle orphanage,”_ Riddle spat the words out, disgusted. “Over this Christmas break so I could come in here to see you again.” Riddle leant down, his face inches from Ron. “I am obsessed with you, Ron Weasley. I want to learn all your secrets. I want to crack open your skull, to delve in and see what it is you’re truly hiding. I want to consume every part of you, so there’s nothing left of you that I don’t know.”  

“You’re mad,” Ron gasped out. “You’re as bloody mad now, as you…”

Riddle’s eyes glinted, catching Ron’s words. “As I _what?”_ He asked, his voice rising. “As I _WHAT,_ Ron Weasley?! Finish your sentence!”

Ron’s hands fumbled for his wand in his robes, but Riddle saw him and was quicker. One hand gripped Ron’s wrist, the other drew his own wand, forcing it underneath his chin. A hard press and Ron had to tilt his head up towards Riddle. Ron gritted his teeth, refusing to speak. Riddle’s eyes were still narrowed dangerously and the boy ducked his head down, his mouth next to Ron’s ear. Ron flinched as his cold lips brushed against his skin. “I suppose it was too much to ask,” He murmured. “For you to act rationally. Perhaps tonight should be a night of irrationality instead.”

Ron didn’t have time to think about what Riddle meant by that, but even when he'd look back on it, there would be no way he would even _consider_ what happened next. Riddle pulled back, regarding him one last time, before pressing his lips roughly against Ron’s.

Ron jerked back away from the contact, but Riddle only pressed into it more. The chair rolled back hitting the wall, and Riddle’s lips never parted from the bruising kiss he was forcing on Ron. Ron tried to make a sound, a sound of anger or disgust or something to object, but it came out as a muffled groan which Riddle answered with his own.

Hearing the noise, Ron was finally able to shake himself from his shocked state and act. Forcing his feet between Riddle's legs, Ron kicked out, causing the boy to lose balance. As Riddle flailed back, Ron raised his fist and – CRUNCH! His knuckles connected with Riddle’s face. He cried out and fell to the ground clutching his nose, and Ron quickly stood up and pointed his wand at Riddle.

Panting, adrenaline and anger and something that was _definitely more anger_ coursing through Ron’s veins, he tried to speak. “Wh-What the _bloody hell-_ What’s _wrong with you?!_ Why did you _do that?!_ Are you – _I’m_ not! You can’t just –” As Ron spluttered, Riddle started laughing.

His laugh was muffled by his hands, but Ron could hear the hysterical tone. Riddle wiped his nose, his hands and face bloody, a wolfish grin on his face. He leered up at Ron. “Oh, you _are_ entertaining. I was worried once I had you figured out you would bore me, but I now I don’t think you will.” Riddle started laughing again, to Ron’s disgust. Blood was still pouring out of his nose, which was most likely broken. Ron was more than a bit tempted to leave it, but what if Riddle couldn’t, or more worryingly wouldn’t, fix it on his own?

_“Episkey!”_ Ron said, and there was a loud snap as Riddle’s nose was fixed back into its correct place. Riddle made a sound in either pain or alarm, which either way made Ron feel _slightly_ better. He hoped it was in pain, though.

Riddle slowly stood up, still wiping his nose against his sweater sleeve, which had gone from a dull grey to a dark red. He grinned at Ron. His cheeks were flushed and lips pink, but that was because Ron punched him and not what… happened before. Ron felt his face go bright red. “You need to get out.” Ron said firmly, his pulse beating in his ears.

Riddle, still grinning; face still flushed; lips still pink, simply stood there, admiring Ron. “You know, with the War, it’s very dangerous to be out alone in London. Maybe you should walk me back?”

“Maybe you should _get out_ before I break your nose again!” Ron suggested instead.

Riddle laughed again, but this one seemed different from before. It wasn’t the maniacal Getting-Punched-Is-So-Much-Fun laugh, but a deep, warm laugh that came from his stomach. Pulling on his coat, Riddle looked back at Ron. “Goodbye, Mr Weasley. I look forward to next time.”

“There won’t be a bloody next time!” Ron yelled at deaf ears.

 

*                *                *

 

“So… What happened?” Hopkins and McLaggen crowded around Ron’s desk.

“What happened with what?” Ron looked up at them through tired eyes. For the last week, he had been struggling to sleep. He was seriously considering going to Diagon Alley to pick up some ingredients to make a Sleeping Potion after work today. He could just buy the potion, but they were expensive! The markup from the ingredients was mad!

Hopkins had a gleeful look on her old face. “A little birdy told me that a certain Hogwarts student visited you on Christmas Eve!”

“Oh, that – No, nothing happened.” Ron said his face going bright red.

“Oh ho!” McLaggen said, pointing a finger at Ron. “You dirty old lecher!” He started laughing, his voice booming around the office causing several people to turn and look.

“No! Nothing _happened!_ Stop laughing!” Ron gestured trying to get McLaggen to shut up.

“That is not the face of nothing!” Hopkins said. “But really, though… How old is he?”

“I-I don’t know –”

“You don’t _know?!”_ McLaggen exclaimed. “That the _first_ thing you need to find out!”

“He’s a Prefect,” Hopkins tapped her chin thoughtfully. “So the youngest he could be is in the fifth year. If he had his birthday before September, then he would be sixteen currently. If he has his birthday during this school year, then he could be potentially underage.”

“Only if he was in fifth year, though,” McLaggen interjected. “So long as he wasn’t a fifth year with a birthdate _after_ September, Weasley is fine. Legally. Morally questionable, but that’s the prerogative of the individual.”

“I’m going to be sick.” Ron pushed the other two out of the way and raced to the bathroom.

He had barely gotten into the cubicle before his stomach clenched and he threw up. Coughing, Ron sank next to the bowl, gripping the porcelain tightly. What was he doing? What was he even doing anymore? For the last week, his diet had consisted of alcohol and beer nuts. He couldn’t sleep. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Riddle looming over him. He felt his lips press against his, and then he thought of Hermione. Merlin, Ron _missed_ her. He missed the way her nose wrinkled when she was reading something particularly complex. The way she got breathless with excitement when she was explaining something. How her soft body felt against his. How well they fit together, completing one another.

Ron didn’t even realise he had started crying until he saw droplets hit the rim of the bowl. Gasping, he wiped his face, trying to stop the tears.

“Ron…?” A feminine voice came from behind him. “Oh, Ron.” Hopkins gently kneeled next to him and held him in her thin arms. Ron leant into the contact. “Tell me, Ron,” Hopkins said quietly. “Let it all out.”

Ron drew in a shaky breath. “I’m just… I don’t know what to do, anymore. I’m a-alone. M-my friends aren’t here, my fa-family, my… girlfriend… I miss her, I miss them all  _so much._ I just want to b-back. I’m not supposed to be here.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try,” Hopkins said softly. “Since you’ve joined us, you haven’t reached out to anyone. You’re like a ghost; you’ve been drifting in and out of work, and you haven’t let anybody close. The only time I’ve seen any kind of life in you is when that boy is involved.” Ron tried to pull away, but Hopkins tightened her grip around him. “You’re not _living_ right now, Ron. I know it hurts. I know it hurts that they’re not here and you are. It seems impossible that your life can go on without them, but remember Ron, they _love you_ and they want to see you living again. Live for them, Ron.”

Ron couldn’t hold back the wail lodged in his throat as he clung to Hopkins like she was the only stable thing in his life. Hopkins didn’t let him go, her thin arms wrapped around him. It wasn’t the same as when his mum hugged him; her warm arms enveloping him, like a knitted blanket she made herself, smelling like freshly baked bread and mince pies. But on the cold floor of the Ministry bathroom, sixty years before his time, Ron took it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that was the scene I had in my head before I even had a plot! (Though there was more making out and less violence back then, hahaha) 
> 
> Also, writing the Quidditch banter (which I got far too carried away with) made me realise that I really want to write about the pair going on a date to a Quidditch match! What I’m imagining is something incredibly cute and fluffy, and … basically not what just happened above, haha  
> I’m going to try fit it in, in a couple of chapters, but if I fell like it doesn’t work with tone and their dynamic, I’ll post it as a separate one-shot, and keep to the original plan.


	5. A Cornucopia of Slugs

 

Ron was filing old reports in the Storage Room when Hopkins came in. Over the last few weeks, since she had reached out a hand of support in the bathroom, they had grown close. Or as close as Ron could allow, while still keeping his secret of being born around forty years after the present time. She was the first person Ron had actually grown comfortable being around since he woke up in St Mungo’s; she rarely pushed Ron for more details when he was talking about himself, silently listening and offering kind encouragement, and Ron was grateful for that.

In turn, Ron learned more about her and came to know the woman behind the strict, if slightly gossip-prone Auror. Wendy Hopkins had no immediate family beyond her brothers. She didn’t marry, like her family expected her to, but instead decided to focus on her career in the Ministry. She had climbed through the Department Magical Law and Enforcement, starting as an Assistant to the Head of the Improper Use of Magic Office. She worked hard to prove herself, before finally getting the chance out in the field. It was almost two decades later, she was accepted to study in the Auror Division. Now, she was a Senior Auror, second only to Gallagher.

“Ron, I need you to do a task for me.” Wendy said.

“Yeah, of course,” Ron replied, putting the folders down on the dusty box.

“I’m scheduled to do the late-shift at Hogwarts, but I’m going over to Kensington instead. There have been three attacks this week, and I’m not going to waste my time watching over the school when I could be there instead.”

“But… Gallagher doesn’t want me out on the field,” Ron said, confused.

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Let me deal with Gallagher. He doesn’t have the staff to spare right now anyway, not with the increased aggression from Grindelwald. The shift starts at sixteen-hundred, report to Officer Black, he should meet you near the gates.”

“Yeah… No worries.” Ron said faintly. He couldn’t believe he had a field mission again!

Wendy smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Go get ready then! Shoo!”

Ron nodded and hurried out the Storage Room.

 

The air smelt differently at Hogwarts, Ron noted as he paced around the chilly grounds. In London, the air was thick and smoggy, and there was always an underlining scent of something unpleasant he couldn’t place. Even in his apartment where he had candles lit, he still could smell it. But out here, it was clean. Crisp, cold air and a sweet scent he could only guess was ancient magic from the castle itself. The sun had set, and Ron had cast _Lumos_ to light his way. It was only him and Black standing guard. After Ron captured Grindelwald’s spy, there had been no more attacks on the school. The tight defence set up by the Ministry dwindled as the months went on, especially as Grindelwald’s attacks seemed to be focused on London.

Checking his watch, Ron saw it was time to meet up with Black again at the gates. Deciding to take a shortcut past the Greenhouses, Ron started walking towards the castle. Stopping momentarily when his foot sunk into a deep patch of snow, Ron shook his foot cursing. He could feel the biting dampness seep in through his shoe, and cursed the dodgy charm placed on them. He knew he shouldn’t have bought such a cheap pair!

As he approached the Greenhouses, Ron saw a dark figure move between the glass structures and instantly forgot his soggy sock. Heart beating with adrenaline, Ron whispered _“Nox,”_ and slunk towards the closest cover. Back pressed against the frozen glass, he peered around the corner and saw the dark shape again. Quickly withdrawing his head, Ron thought fast.

It definitely wasn’t a student sneaking around, the person was far too big. Steeling himself, Ron peered around the corner again, ready to subdue them before they spotted him when the clouds above drifted and moonlight lit up the area.

“Professor Slughorn?!” Ron blurted out. The fat man yelped and spun around, hiding whatever was in his hands.

“Oh Merlin’s beard, you scared the life out of me!” Slughorn gasped, clutching his chest.

“What are you doing?” Ron asked him, stepping out properly, lighting his wand tip again. Slughorn winced as the bright light shone into his eyes.

“I… Well,” Slughorn shifted uncomfortably. “The fangs from a Fanged Geranium are very valuable. They can go for a Galleon a tooth! I mean, not that I know much about that! They’re incredibly useful for Advanced Potions. I don’t take too many, of course! Professor Beery is very attached to his plants, I would hate for him to think I damaged them in any way…”

“Yeah, okay,” Ron said, not believing a word he said. This was exactly what happened to Harry when he drunk the Felix Felicis in their sixth year! “Just… Be more careful, next time. I thought you were a spy.”

“Of course, of course. I image you of all people would be most on edge.” Slughorn tucked the snuff box of fangs down the front of his robes. “Say, Mr Weasley, is it okay to call you Ron?” Ron blinked in surprise and nodded. Slughorn knew his name?! Slughorn _never_ remembered his name. “Ron, I’m hosting a little get together shortly, with some of my students. I would _love_ for you to come along.”

Ron blinked again, trying to register what he was hearing. The Slug Club. In no universe did Ron ever think it was possible for Slughorn to not only remember his name but to invite him to his infamous Club! “Umm… I’d love to, but I’m on duty right now.”

Slughorn waved his hand. “Oh, nonsense Ron! Several of your colleagues have joined me already! They were all mine, you see, while they were at students. It’s wonderful keeping in touch and seeing how they’re going! You, however, I don’t know! I’d really like to get to know you better, Ron.”

“Errr…”

“Come on now!” Slughorn said, clapping Ron on the shoulder. “Black will be fine on his own! He joined me last week, himself! We’ve got a range of cocktail foods _and_ cheesecake for dessert!”

Ron _did_ like cheesecake.

“AIright, I should be able to sneak away for a little bit… I’ll just tell Black first…”

“Fantastic, Ron!” Slughorn praised him. “I’m sure Mr Riddle would be delighted to see you again, too! He speaks very highly of you, you know!” Slughorn then tried to tell Ron how to get to his Office, but it took several goes, as Ron struggled to focus on what the man was saying. Finally realising that Slughorn was giving him directions, not to the Office he had when Ron was a student, but to Snape’s old Office, Ron hastily agreed, before almost fleeing back to Black at the school gates. 

The other man was unimpressed that Ron had kept him waiting, but only shrugged when Ron mentioned Slughorn’s invitation. Apparently, _everyone_ had gone to one of his parties! “You should go. The food’s good and the wine's better. Slughorn’ll wait on you all night and you get out of this blasted cold.”

 

Still very uneasy with the decision, Ron finally caved in and went inside the castle when his shoe started squelching again. But as he stepped through the oak doors, he felt like a first year again. Hogwarts looked exactly the same. He stood there, marvelling up at the castle: the looming stone arches and ceilings; the grand marble staircase with trick steps; the dynamic portraits; the intricate tapestries; his memories of his time here coming back vividly. Dragging his feet, he slowly walking down to the Dungeons, wanting to savour his time back in the school.

Hearing a group of voices up ahead, echoing through the dim corridor, Ron strained his ears. It sounded like a group of girls? They were all laughing. As he got closer, he started to make out what they were saying.

“-St-Stop it!”

“ _Stop it!”_ Another mimicked, in a mocking tone. “Why don’t you _make_ me stop it.”

“I’m going to tell the Professors!”

“Ooooh!” The second girl said. “I’m _sooooo_ scared!”

The first girl started screaming in pain and Ron ran through the corridors looking for them. He rounded a corner and found several Slytherin girls surrounding a cowering Ravenclaw. One of the Slytherin’s had a hold of the Ravenclaw girl’s pigtail and was pulling roughly. “Myrtle the _Mudblood.”_ The Slytherin mocked and Ron saw red.

“Hey! Get away from her!” He yelled out, storming over. Everyone’s head snapped towards Ron and the Slytherin girl instantly lets go of the other girl’s hair.

“Who are you?” The Slytherin asked, warily. The combination of her tightly curled blonde hair and round face made Ron think of a Puffskein, but a really bad tempered one and not cute. 

“I’m an Auror.” Ron snapped angrily, his teeth grinding against one another.

The girl’s eyes widened comically. “You’re… _him._ Ron Weasley!” She gasped out. “I’m so sorry, Mr Weasley!” The other Slytherin girls murmured their own apologies, all starting at him with a mixture of fear and awe.

“I think you’d better get back to your dormitories.” Ron said, glaring at them.

The Slytherins all nodded hastily and scampered off down the corridor, leaving Ron alone with the Ravenclaw, who was still cowering on the floor.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked the girl gently. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and Ron forgot to breathe. It was _Moaning Myrtle!_

“’m fine…” She said quietly, rubbing her eyes underneath thick glasses. “They always do that.”

Ron tried to speak. “… Why? Why do they always bully you? What were you doing down in the Dungeons anyway?”

Myrtle stood up slowly. “I left my Potions book in the classroom today. I needed it to do my homework, so I came back…” She brushed her robes down. “I guess they bully me ‘cause I’m an easy target.”

“Well, why don’t you fight back then?” Ron encouraged. “Or go to the Professors?”

Myrtle shifted, not looking at Ron. “I’m not a _Gryffindor,”_ She said.

“You don’t need to be a Gryffindor to be brave! The same way you don’t need to be a Ravenclaw to be smart, or a Hufflepuff to be kind, or… A Slytherin to be evil!” Myrtle sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Don’t let your House define you! If you’re being bullied, you need to stand up for yourself!”

Myrtle sniffed again. “I’ll… try.”

“Good!” Ron encouraged. “Next time they try to bully you, let them know they can’t mess with you! Keep your head high, and give it right back to them! And whatever you do, don’t go crying in the bathrooms!”

Myrtle nodded shakily. “I won’t…”

“Alright, good on you, Myrtle!” Ron said relieved.

“I’m going to go back to the Common Room now…” She said, picking up her Potions book from the ground.

Ron felt a deep satisfaction swell in his chest. That was _Moaning Myrtle!_ And she was still alive! Now, if anything did happen with Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets, he’s done his best to keep Myrtle away from the First Floor bathroom! Happily, Ron continued towards Slughorn’s Office.

 

Arriving there, though, Ron couldn’t shake the feeling of distaste in his stomach as he stood outside the door. All he could see was Snape’s old (Or is that technically new?) Office, and could remember getting detentions with the greasy git. Harry might have been able to forgive him easily, but Ron couldn’t forget his dislike for the man, especially being back at Hogwarts.

Knocking on the door, Ron heard a muffled “Coming!” and Slughorn opened the door. “Ron!” He beamed widely at him. “Come in! Come in! I confess, I was worried you were just being polite when you agreed.”

“Couldn't pass on that cheesecake.” Ron joked, stepping into the room. The room was very different to how Snape had it furnished. Instead of bare stone walls and floors, save for cabinetry full of potions, ingredients and just creepy things in jars that _couldn’t_ have served any purpose than to scare students, Slughorn had a roaring fire going, a large rug across the floor and shelves and shelves of strange instruments, laughing photos and trophies. It felt very welcoming to Ron, who stared around at everything. There were several students dotted around the room, either standing or sitting on plush chairs. And on the far side of the room was Tom Riddle.

The boy was looking straight across the room at Ron, who very purposely avoided his gaze. Standing with him was an older boy with platinum blond hair and a pointed nose who without any doubt Ron identified as a Malfoy. On Riddle’s other side, Ron noted with surprise, was the Slytherin girl who he caught bullying Myrtle only minutes before! She was starting at Ron with wide eyes, talking rapidly to Riddle, who gave no indication that he was even listening.

“Welcome to my Club!” Slughorn clasped Ron, steering him towards a table filled with finger-foods and goblets. “This is my exclusive group of students I feel are going to go _further_ after Hogwarts. I want to see them succeed, so I put together these little get-togethers every once in a while, so they know that I am here to help them however I can! It also helps them network, there’s such a division amongst the Houses, I like to see them all mingle with one another.”

Ron swallowed half the wine in one mouthful. “You’d better be careful who you let in,” Ron said viciously. “I saw _that_ girl,” He nodded at the Slytherin girl who was still watching him. She went ghostly pale. “Bullying another student on the way here.”

“W-what…?” Slughorn stuttered with wide eyes. “Olive Hornby?! Oh-Oh, my! Are you sure? Oh, that is not good at all!”

Slughorn handed Ron his own goblet and bustled over to the three Slytherins. His words were too faint for Ron to hear over the music and chatter, but the girl – Olive Hornby! That was right! Moaning Myrtle haunted her after she died and Hornby had to go to the Ministry to stop her! – became teary eyed, and seemed to be pleading with Slughorn. Sipping from his goblet, Ron watched as Hornby turned to Riddle, looking for his support, but Riddle’s face was stony. Upset, Hornby left Slughorn’s office, her head hung low, tears running down her face.

Slughorn came back to him looking flustered. “Not good, not good at all.” He was muttering to himself. “Oh, thank you, Ron.” He said taking the goblet back and drinking the contents in one gulp. “You have _got_ to try these canapés. We have a salmon pate on a cucumber bed, and seared scallops…”

As Slughorn listed off the foods, Ron felt the back of his neck prickle and _knew_ it was Riddle’s eyes burning a hole into the back of his head. Picking up one of the cucumbers, Ron shoved it into his mouth. “’s good.” He said.

“Yes, yes, well, how about we re-fill our goblets and go sit down. I really want to have a little chat with you, Ron.”

Ron grabbed a few more of the canapés and followed Slughorn over to a pair of empty armchairs. The students all were looking at Ron curiously as he passed them, but none approached, turning back to their own conversations.

“So, Ron,” Slughorn said, leaning back into the chair. “You’re a great mystery to me! You’re an Auror, but you never studied at Hogwarts?”

Ron shook his head. “Nah, I was home schooled.”

“I see, I see. So, who are your parents?” Ron almost choked on a cucumber.

“Um…”  Slughorn was staring at him, waiting for him to reply. “I… don’t think… that’s important…” Ron mumbled.  

“There’s no need to get defensive!” Slughorn assured Ron, “I’m only curious to know who could have raised such an extraordinary man! There are rumours all around the school about you, you know! How you saved old Silvanus from that blasted Hippogriff of his! Then that very same day caught one of _Grindelwald’s spies!_ Mr Riddle has only spoken the highest praise of you.” Slughorn nodded to Riddle, who with Malfoy, who were standing much closer to Ron and Slughorn than before. He was clearly eavesdropping, but Riddle didn’t give any indication of hearing Slughorn and continued to talk quietly to Malfoy.

Ron shrugged awkwardly, “It’s nothing really. I was just doing my job.”

“And a fine job you did!” Slughorn praised him. “Say, Ron,” Slughorn leant in. “I met you in the Ministry, didn’t I? During the school break?”

Ron shifted uncomfortably and shoved his last canapé in his mouth. He nodded.

“What were you doing with Ernie Alton?”

Ron swallowed thickly. “Errr… I can’t say. It’s classified, you know with the Department of Mysteries, an’ all.”

“Oho! So you’ve been doing work with the Unspeakables too! Are you working with Brian Cornfoot? Is it to do with the War? Are you helping them come up with a special weapon?”

Oh Merlin, this was getting worse. Ron looked around desperately for an escape and found Riddle watching him again. A small smirk graced the boy’s lips, no doubt taking great pleasure in watching Ron hopelessly flail under pressure. Riddle cocked his eyebrow up at Ron, who shot him a pleading look. The smirk turned into a full-blown grin and Ron felt disgusted with himself for even trying. 

“Ron?” Slughorn asked. “Did you hear me?”

“Umm…” Ron said turning back to Slughorn. “Sorry, it’s classified.” He said faintly.

“Ahhh, no matter.” Slughorn said disappointedly. He drank from his goblet and Ron mirrored him. “So, what kind of practical tests of magic did you go through at home?” Slughorn asked. “The only homeschooled wizards I’ve met before you don’t have half the talent you seem to have! Most go on to have, well if I am completely frank, _menial_ jobs, not something as ambitious as an Auror!”

Just as Ron tried to think of something to say, a soft voice spoke. “I’m sorry to interrupt Professor Slughorn,” Riddle! Riddle had come across and saved him! Ron could ki- NO! He definitely could _not_ do that! Ron felt his ears burn and hoped no-one noticed. “I just… wanted to meet Mr Weasley again. I never had the opportunity to thank him, for what happened in the forest.”

“Tom! Of course, my boy!” Slughorn heaved himself out of the armchair. “Sit down, have a chat with him!” Riddle smiled graciously at Slughorn, who looked down at Ron. “It was nice talking to you Ron, but I won’t hog you for the whole night!” Ron shook his outstretched hand. “I’d best make the rounds, see how everyone’s doing! Come on Abraxas! How’s your Uncle going? Is he still working on…” Slughorn’s voiced trailed off as he steered Malfoy away.

Riddle gracefully sat in the chair opposite Ron. “He thinks you’re awfully dull.” Riddle said quietly with the faint smirk playing on his lips. “He knew he wasn’t going to get any information out of you, that’s why he left in such a hurry.”

Ron finished off his wine with one big swallow to avoid talking. Riddle seemed happy to continue. “I did love watching you squirm, though.” Ron felt his face heat up. “You really do need practice lying.”

“And you’re the expert on that?” Ron snapped back.

Riddle never answered him, but his smirk widened. He leant back, resting his arms on the sides of the armchair and Ron was struck with how regal he looked. Even just a teenager, it looked so natural on him. “What happened with Hornby?”

“I think you know what happened,” Ron replied. “She was telling you, wasn’t she? When I first came in.”

“Perhaps,” Riddle shrugged nonchalantly. “I wonder what your interest in the situation was, though…”

“I had no interest.” Ron said carefully. “I came across them bullying the girl.”

“And you felt the need to see her kicked out of the Slug Club… Did you know that Hornby’s parents have crippling debt? Her father disgraced their name when he was caught rigging Quidditch matches. He’s a drunk now, spending all her mother’s hard-worked money from her job as a tailor. And then there’s the fine they need to pay back too. It seems like it won’t be paid off during either of their lifetimes. Hornby has been studying hard. She wants to get the best job she can once she leaves to help them. She was hoping that Slughorn and the Slug Club would help open doors for her.” Riddle sighed sadly. “It seems she’s going to have to struggle on her own now.”

Ron felt something twist in his stomach. He… didn’t know that about Olive Hornby. He only knew of the girl who teased Myrtle endlessly and drove her to cry in the bathroom on that fateful day. Riddle was watching his expression closely.

“So… Why did you do it? Why did you tell Slughorn?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“I think it was meant as a warning for me.” Riddle theorised. “You wanted to show me what you’re _capable_ of. A threat.” Riddle leant forwards towards Ron. He wasn’t in Ron’s personal space. If anyone saw them now, it would just look like they were having a private conversation. “But _why_ are you threatening me? I _still_ have done nothing to you, Mr Weasley. Why must you go out of your way to intimidate me?”

Ron swore. “That’s a load of dung.” He hissed, conscious of keeping his voice down. “In the Ministry, you drew your wand on me.”

_“You_ drew your wand first. I was acting in self-defence.”

“That was _not_ self-defence what you did.”

Riddle let out a sudden laugh, looking smug. “How long until you could stop thinking about it? How many nights, when you closed your eyes, did you go back to that moment?”

“None!” Ron snapped, but Riddle continued to look smug.

“You know,” Riddle drawled, leaning in further. “I never did thank you for _saving_ me in the Forest. Do you have any ideas on how I could?” Ron’s face went beetroot red instantly. “Perhaps after this party we could –”

“Phew, finally got away from him!” A voice said next to them. Riddle shot back and Ron gasped. It was like he was underwater and his head just broke through to the surface. He could hear the chatter and music of the room around him, which had disappeared the moment Riddle sat down.

He looked up and saw Malfoy had returned to Riddle holding two goblets. “He wouldn’t stop asking about my Uncle! My Uncle isn’t the only Malfoy who…” Malfoy’s voice died off. Ron glanced at Riddle and saw the boy glaring murderously at Malfoy. His dark eyes were locked on Malfoy, like he was a dangerous, intelligent beast, angered and about to strike. “I… I am sorry to have interrupted,” Malfoy stuttered.

Then instantly Riddle’s glare slipped off his face and was replaced with the familiar mask. “Not at all, Abraxas.” He said smoothly. “Allow me to introduce you to Ron Weasley.”

Remembering his two goblets, Abraxas gave one to Riddle who sipped from it delicately and stretched out his hand. Shaking it, Ron noted how _smooth_ his hand was. He must use moisturiser or something, it was like a woman’s hand!

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Weasley.” Malfoy said charmingly. “You know I must say, I was surprised to hear that you’re a _Weasley!_ They seem to have dropped off these last few of generations, losing their fortune and starting to mingle with the Muggle-borns. But it’s good to see that you’re restoring their name again!”

Ron couldn’t even try to hide the look of disgust on his face. A Malfoy insulting his family! They’re all the bloody same the slimy, rotten, inbred tossers, it doesn’t matter _which_ generation!

Catching Ron’s expression, Riddle spoke up. “I think Professor Slughorn is looking for you again, Abraxas. Maybe you should go see?”

Understanding his cue to leave, Malfoy dipped away.

Riddle sighed. “I really question his tact, sometimes.”

“He’s a Malfoy, what do you expect?” Ron said, still disgusted. “They’re only interested in their Pure Blood and fortune, and rubbing it in everyone else’s face.”

“Sadly you’re completely true.” Riddle took another sip from the goblet and Ron glanced at his watch.

“I think I’d better get back on duty. I don't want to be seen slacking off. I wasn’t even rostered on to be here; I was just covering for someone else.”

“I’ll walk you back,” Riddle said quickly, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“No way.”

“I insist.”

“I insist you _don’t.”_

Ron stood up hastily and said his goodbyes to Slughorn. Unfortunately, Riddle shadowed him, so when they left Slughorn’s office and Ron turned to him to tell him more forcibly to _bugger off_ , he was caught off guard when Riddle pushed him back against the wall and kissed him again. His lips were still cold and his hands gripped the front of Ron’s robes tightly, afraid if he let go Ron would flee.

And he _would_ flee, Ron told himself as Riddle pressed himself closer against Ron. He would flee and when he goes back home, he would think of Hermione. Hermione… She felt so different to this. Where her body was soft and warm, Riddle was the opposite. Ron could tilt Hermione’s head back, bury his hands in her hair, making her gasp for him, but Riddle’s body didn’t budge, trying to overpower Ron instead.

Riddle shifted his stance and Ron let out a choked sound as heat flooded his body. He reached out to grip Riddle’s waist, to stop him, to pull him closer. He didn’t know. Riddle ducked his head and sucked on Ron’s neck and Ron could only cling to him, afraid to let go. The wet lips trailed back up to his face, and Ron met them this time. Riddle made a sound, and Ron drank it up.

Time seemed to stand still, in the corridor. Ron didn’t know how long they were there, but finally, Riddle pulled away, and they both panted for air. Riddle’s eyes were dark and his cheeks flushed. His lips were full and pink, shining with their saliva and his perfect hair was tousled. He was a dishevelled mess, and for the first time, Ron saw how handsome he was. Harry had commented on how good-looking the young Tom Riddle was, before. Even Ginny uncomfortably mentioned it once when she was trying to explain to him just how the Horcrux in the diary had managed to make her pour her deepest secrets out to him. But when Ron destroyed the locket and saw the glimpse man before he became You-Know-Who, he was unable to see anything more than the monster that turned him against his friends.

“There’s a Quidditch game this Saturday, Slytherin versus Hufflepuff,” Riddle whispered against his lips. “Come watch it with me. Then, maybe we could… Spend some time alone together after.” Ron nodded. That sounded like a good idea. Riddle grinned and ran his hands over Ron’s trousers. “I think you stop by a bathroom on the way out? And get this sorted?” That also sounded like a really good idea. Riddle stepped back, letting go of Ron. “Goodnight Mr Weasley.”

Ron only nodded again and walked away.

Merlin, what was he doing?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against my better judgement, I’ve decided to include the Quidditch Date next chapter. It’s mostly complete, but so cracky and stupid and I need to desperately reign it in, so if I miss next week's deadline, it’s because I’m struggling to edit it to something I can publish, haha


	6. Books & Bludgers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m really sorry for the delay with this chapter! My personal life just went really crazy, but I’ll explain that a bit more in the end notes. I’m not 100% happy with this chapter; it’s a lot rougher than the others and my formatting and pacing are a bit all over the place, but I’ve finally had some spare time this evening and I’ve decided just to get this finished and uploaded.

Ron fidgeted uncomfortably standing outside of Hogwarts’ great castle doors as another group of students walked past him. These ones were donned in festive yellow scarfs and hats. A couple carried massive flags with a Badger on it, already unravelled and blowing in the wind. They stared at him as they passed on their way to the Pitch, whispering to each other behind their hands. That’s it - if Riddle wasn’t here in five minutes he was going to leave! Bugger Hogwarts Quidditch, he could listen to a proper League match on the W.W.N. instead.

Movement out of the corner of Ron’s eye made him turn his neck sharply, but no. It was a little first year or something, running awkwardly with a large striped black and yellow hat on their head. The tip of the hat pointed straight up to the sky, making it look like a giant, angry wasp stinger. As the student ran, the wasp-hat kept slipping forward over their head, causing them to sway and stumble. At the rate they were going, the kid was probably going to end up face-planting it on the ground and end up in the Hospital Wing before the game even started!

_Then again, first years are fairly bouncy…_ Ron considered.

The wooden doors creaked behind Ron and a large group of students wearing green scarves walked out of the castle, and Ron felt his heart starting to race. Was this him? Was he in this group? But as Ron looked over at them, trying to pick out Riddle, none of them stopped. In fact… Were they smirking at him?! No, they couldn’t be, they’re just acting like typical Slytheri – Okay, that girl was definitely smirking! One of the older girls with long black hair was staring at him in almost a disturbingly sultry way.

This was a really terrible idea, why had he agreed to go along with it? Watching the Slytherin group swagger to the pitch, Ron decided that yes, he was going. Now. Forget Riddle, forget the game. He shouldn’t even be here anyway. What was he thinking, coming back?! He was going home for the rest of his weekend off, maybe to the Leaky Cauldron too, because they’ve been serving a really nice stew and Yorkshire pudding for the last few days, maybe there would be some left over tonight…

“Mr Weasley?” Ron’s head jerked up and saw Tom Riddle standing at the castle steps, with several other students with him. Riddle stood there looking shocked before a joyful smile grew on his face. He quickly turned to the others and said something Ron couldn’t hear. They nodded and Riddle left the group without another word. When he reached Ron, he still had a smile on his face. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“I nearly left,” Ron grumbled. “Everyone was looking at me.”

Riddle laughed lightly. “They stare at all the Aurors on duty. They find you quite intimidating. The elite Dark Wizard catchers…”

“What about you? Do _you_ find us intimidating?”

Something on Riddle’s face changed and his smile suddenly seemed much more predatory. “Not as much as you think I am.” But in an instant it was gone and he was walking away from Ron. “Shall we go to the Quidditch Pitch, Mr Weasley?” He called over his shoulder. “I believe the game is about to begin.”

 

The weather was about as perfect as it could be for a Quidditch game in winter. It was cold, no doubt; there was a thick layer of fresh snow on the Pitch with paths of deep footprints where the Players had already been out to inspect conditions. But there was only a light scattering of clouds and the sun wasn’t too bright, so the players and spectators alike would have high visibility.

As they reached the entrance to the stands, Riddle turned to Ron. “So where would you like to sit?”

_Centre-Pitch would be ideal…_ Ron mused. There was a collection of all the Houses there, as opposed to the more concentrated ends near the hoops, which had only Slytherin and Hufflepuff on opposite sides. Unfortunately, those stands were completely full, since the game was so close to starting, so the pair ended up close to the Slytherin hoops. Squeezing in next to a student who had dyed their hair green and another with matching face-paint, Ron had a sudden horrifying thought.

_He was going to have to cheer for Slytherin._

No, he would play neutral, Ron thought firmly as the student with face-paint offered their seat to Riddle. He would teach Riddle about the game, let _him_ cheer for his House, but Ron would politely applaud both teams for good plays. Merlin, this was going to be a boring game. No beer, no food, and he couldn’t even pick a team to support!

As the teams took to the air to warm up, Ron leant into Riddle, talking over the crowd. “What do you know about Quidditch?”

“Not a lot. As I told you before, I think it seems awfully dull.”

“That’s because you don’t know the rules!” Ron told him enthusiastically. “It’s just like duelling! It’s a combination of skill and strategy that’ll win the game. You could be the most athletic flyer ever, but it doesn’t matter if you’re a thick-head with no Quidditch-IQ, and can’t run simple plays!”

_“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the second-last game of the season!”_ A loud voice boomed around the Pitch. The game was about to start! _“After this game, only the Finals remain! Today will decide who faces Gryffindor in the Finals!”_ All around Ron was a sudden uproar of booing and hisses at the mention of their hated rivals. _“A must-win game for both teams! So without any further delay, let’s give a huge applause to our teams!”_

The Commentator listed the Hufflepuff team first and the rows around Ron started booing again. Merlin, these Slytherins were a volatile bunch! But when he started naming the Slytherin players, the booing and jeering turned into an instant cheer. They were all whooping and hollering, and Ron couldn’t help but feel the tingle of excitement spread through him, sitting in the crowd about to watch a game. As the players flew around over the stands, egging the crowd on to roar louder for them, Ron joined in.

The players all returned to the ground for kick off and the Captains shook hands. Ron felt his heart racing as they mounted their brooms, watching the Referee. The Bludgers were released first, shooting up into the sky, followed by the Snitch. The tiny golden ball hovered for a moment, the sunlight glinting off its surface, before vanishing. There was a sharp whistle, the Quaffle was thrown in the air, and – Yes! Slytherin caught the tip off! The crowd roared around him and Ron jumped up shouting as the Chasers swarmed towards the hoops in a V-formation, the Hufflepuff Chasers trailing behind. The yellow Keeper hovered between the hoops, unsure where to go. The leading Chaser with the Quaffle suddenly darted to the left, Quaffle raised – They threw it back!

The Keeper dived wildly to left, but the Quaffle sailed backwards to the second Chaser who easily threw it into the centre hoop.

_“Ten-Nil to Slytherin!”_ The Commentator boomed over the screaming crowd.

“Yes! Come on!” Ron applauded loudly. Sitting back down in his seat, Ron suddenly remembered himself and Riddle sitting next to him. Looking at the boy, Ron saw the very distinct look of boredom on his face. _Okay, let’s start with the basics._ Ron leant into Riddle, so the boy could hear him over the roaring crowd. “There’s seven players on each team. Three Chasers, two Beaters, a Keeper and a Seeker. The Chasers and the Keeper play with the Quaffle. The Beaters hit the Bludger with their bat to disrupt plays, and only a Seeker can catch the Snitch.”

A sloppy pass from Hufflepuff and a Slytherin Chaser stole the Quaffle. The three green Chasers sped straight for the hoops again.

“If a Chaser can throw a Quaffle into any of the hoops, they score ten points. The Keeper tries to stop them, basically any way they can. I used to play Keeper.” Ron added.

Riddle turned to him. “You played as a Keeper? When? Was this before you became an Auror?”

“Yeah, when I was at H –” Ron almost bit down on his tongue at the slip-up. “I… I used to play with my brothers and sister. And some of the other kids nearby. Nothing formal, of course. Since I was home-schooled, an’ all…”

_“Twenty – Nil to Slytherin!”_  The crowd around them cheered. Ron clapped and Riddle didn’t move all.  

“So, scoring with the Quaffle gives you ten points.” Ron tried again. “But the game only ends when a Seeker catches the Snitch. The game could last ten seconds or ten hours, it doesn’t matter! That’s what makes it so exciting because you never know when it’s going to happen! The Seeker who catches it gets 150 points! A lot of the time that team wins, because it’s such a massive number –”

_“Thirty – Nil, Slytherin is leading!”_

“ – But not always! I went to a World Cup game once that the Seeker caught the Snitch and still lost! He knew his team was going to lose – they had given up too much of a lead – so he wanted to end it on his terms.”

Riddle’s nose wrinkled. “That’s an excessive point differential. Why bother with trying to score with the Quaffle then? Leave the Keeper and have all your Chasers focus on catching the Snitch instead.”  

“… You can’t, only the Seeker can catch a Snitch.”

Riddle rolled his eyes. “You still have the Seeker catch the Snitch, but make the other players lookouts. Twelve eyes are better than two.”

“But the Beaters have to monitor both what’s happening with the Quaffle and the Bludgers. _They_ don’t have time to spare! And if you leave a Keeper against all three Chasers, of course they’re going to score and very rapidly at that! Look, that’s what’s happening now!” Ron pointed out to the Pitch. “The Hufflepuffs players aren’t quick enough on defence to stop the Slytherins, who just keep overpowering the Keeper!”

The Slytherin Chasers started flying towards the hoops again, the Hufflepuff Keeper, flying in a choppy zig-zag between each of the rings.

“Watch, they’re going to do it again! This is called the Hawkshead Attack Formation! The Hufflepuff Chasers can’t break it, they’re not good enough! Their Beaters could, if they sent a Bludger into the head of the formation, but they seem to be rubbish as well, I don’t even know what they’re doing…”   

The head Chaser charged straight at the Keeper and at the last second threw the Quaffle behind him. But the other Chasers had already flown away, thinking he was going to score and the ball fell towards the ground.

“Oh! Oh, you bloody daft –!” Ron jumped up on his feet, yelling at the Chaser. “Stop getting cocky, you –” His words were drowned out by the crowd booing as a Hufflepuff Chaser snatched the Quaffle.

The Slytherins gave chase, but they were still too scattered from the fumbled play before, and a well-placed Bludger by a Hufflepuff Beater kept them back far enough for Hufflepuff to send the Quaffle through the hoop for the first goal.

“Bloody stupid!” Ron yelled as everyone around him booed. “Did you see that?!” He turned to Riddle. “If they just kept it simple they could have scored, but instead they tried to show off and lost the possession!”

“… How terrible.” Riddle said, his voice indifferent, but Ron was too worked up to care.

“It bloody well is!” He huffed, throwing himself back down. “He _tried_ to do a Reverse Pass like before, but he didn’t check to see where his team-mates were and turned it over!”

“Mmmm…” Riddle hummed wordlessly.

 

_“That goal brings Slytherin up 90 – 20!”_

While their first goal gave Hufflepuff confidence, it was clear that Slytherin were the over all the better team. Their offence was quick and deadly even if they had a tendency to showboat. On defence, they were stifling; their constant harassment pressured the Hufflepuff Chasers into making many bad passes and difficult shots. Ron explained this to Riddle as best he could, pointing out the specific plays and maneuverers the players were doing, but the boy’s face never changed from the bored, unimpressed look he had since tip-off.

 “Why does a Seeker have so much power?” Riddle asked. Ron saw his eyes were one of the Seekers flying slowly nearby them. “They do nothing all game and yet they dictate how and when the game ends.”

“Well… They’re not useless.” Ron said. “You don’t really see it on this level, but in professional games, the Seeker interacts with the rest of players; distracting oppositions, blocking them, drawing stray Bludgers away, that sort of thing.”

“ _They’re_ not doing anything.”

“Yeah, well, it’s as I said; you’re not really going to see that at Hogwarts. The players just don’t have the time or facilities to train up to that sort of level. They can only practice, what a few hours each week? More if they could, but between classes, homework and sharing the Pitch with three other teams, it’s basically impossible. If the teams here started running the same plays to get the Seekers involved, we’d be here for days! You just can’t compare the two!”

Riddle didn’t seem particularly impressed with his answer and kept silent.  

 

_“This is getting embarrassing now! Slytherin is winning 130 –  40!”_

“Did you see what the Beaters did there?” Ron asked Riddle, not looking away from the Pitch. “They both hit the Bludger at the same time! That move is called Dopplebeater Defence! It was a really clever move! One lured the Bludger in close, so they were in sight of the Keeper! The Keeper had no choice but to dodge it, leaving the hoops open. Taking a hit from a powerful strike like that at such close range would have broken their bones, no doubt about that!”  

_“What’s this?! The Seekers are diving! Have they spotted the Snitch?!”_

“They’re diving! Oh, Merlin! I can’t see it! Can you see it?!” Ron blindly threw his arm out to alert the boy of what was happening, not daring to take his eyes away from the descending Seekers.

As the crowd’s cheering reached a deafening roar as they hurdled to the ground, one of the Slytherin Beaters hit a Bludger towards the Hufflepuff Seeker. Seeing the ball flying towards them, the Seeker swerved away, straight into the Slytherin Seeker. They collided with a sickening crunch and landed on the thankfully soft snow in a heap of tangled bodies and brooms.

Ron let out a groan of sympathy and shook his head. “That was bloody brutal! Hope neither of them got injured.” He turned to see how Riddle was going. Maybe the sight of violence had finally excited him into enjoying the game?

Ron’s eyes bugged out and he gaped wordlessly at the boy. Riddle was reading a book! He was sitting there, a yellowing book open in his lap, his eyes flying quickly over the printed lines, completely unaffected by the game around him.

“Y-You’re reading?!” Ron spluttered, aghast. “Have you even been listening to me?!”

Riddle turned a page, not looking up.

“Oi!” Ron yelled, punching him in the arm. “Are you listening?!”

Riddle started and looked up at Ron. “Oh. Has the game ended?”

Ron was almost frothing at the mouth.  “No, it hasn’t bloody finished! If you were paying attention you would know that! I’ve been talking to you for the last half-hour, now! Were you even listening to me?!”

Riddle blinked slowly. “I confess, I tuned your voice out after a while. Forgive me, Mr Weasley, I don’t think Quidditch is my form of entertainment.”

“This was your bloody idea, to begin with!” Ron ranted. “I’ve been explaining the plays and tactics for you, so you’d understand! Instead you – you’ve…” Ron helplessly gestured at Riddle and the book, his words failing him.

Riddle laughed as Ron spluttered, his face getting redder. His anger and frustration peaking, Ron grabbed the book and hurled it over the railing into the Pitch.

Riddle instantly jumped up, letting out a cry of alarm as the book sailed through the air. However, luck was not written in either of their stars or tea-leaves and Riddle must have kicked a black cat because that definitely would be something he’d do and – oh! Ron _knew_ he shouldn’t have sat at table 13 last night!

One of the Beaters was flying past as Ron threw the book and their instinct kicked in. Catching the movement out of the corner of their eye, the Beater swung their bat, cleanly connecting with the book, sending it flying high in the air. Riddle made a horrified sound, his wide eyes following the ascending book, while Ron gaped wordlessly.  

The Beater froze, realising it wasn’t a Bludger, but the crowd around Ron and Riddle suddenly cheered. _“Hit it again! Hit it!”_ A grin appeared on the Beater’s face. Flying after the book, the Beater swung the bat, splitting the book, sending a shower of paper fluttering down towards the ground. The crowd cheered, while Riddle remained motionless and Ron slowly sunk into his seat.

Riddle slowly turned to Ron. “That was from the Restricted Section.”

 

The game ended shortly after. Ron remained sitting, clapped quietly each time a Chaser scored, but his heart was no longer in it. Every time he looked down, he saw the scattered remains of the destroyed book on the snow below had to avert his eyes. Riddle remained sitting rigidly next to him in complete silence, staring out at the Pitch. Finally, the Slytherin Seeker caught the Snitch and after screaming so loudly Ron’s ears popped, the crowd started to disperse around them.

Ron stood up, ready to leave the school when Riddle's voice stopped him in his tracks. “You’re going to collect the book and return it to the Library with me.”

Ron silently nodded.

Leaving the stands, they walked down in silence to the Quidditch Pitch. Out on the snowy field, Ron could feel the cold already seep into his shoe, like it was mocking his already poor situation. Without prompting from Riddle, Ron started collecting the fallen bits of paper as quickly as he could. The snow had soaked most of the sheets, making the ink run into unreadable blobs. Wincing, Ron hurriedly collected all the sheets he could see, before awkwardly placing them in the remains of the leather binder.

Maybe he could just leave now? He’s picked up the sheets for Riddle, he wouldn’t need to go the Library, too would he? There was no point, really. He wasn’t a student; it wasn’t like they could give him detention or something over the damaged book!

“Let’s go.” Riddle ordered, his voice still void of emotions.

Bloody hell.

 

*             *             *

 

“Good afternoon, Tom!” A cheerful female voice came from behind the Library desk near the door. A rather pudgy looking woman with glasses and a large ostrich quill tucked behind one ear.

“Good afternoon, Madame Fittleworth.” Riddle greeted her politely, a friendly smile on his face.

“I have the best of news for you, Tom!” Madame Fittleworth said, clapping her hands together. “The book you requested about _Egbert the Egregious_ has arrived here by owl, just this morning! I had a little flick through; he had quite the ferocious reputation, didn’t he?! I can see how he influenced medieval duelling techniques and combatant spells – ” The woman’s voice cut off, her eyes on Ron. “Oh! I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there! How can I help you?”

Riddle glanced at Ron. “This is Ron Weasley. He’s the Auror who caught the spy in the Forest.”

“Ron Weasley!” She gasped. “Oh, I‘ve heard all about you, Mr Weasley! You’re so brave and heroic!” She bustled around the desk to shake Ron’s hand. “And you’re so handsome too! Isn’t he handsome, Tom?” Madame Fittleworth suddenly flushed. “I’m sorry, that was inappropriate.” She stumbled back, banging into the desk. The ostrich quill fell from her hair to the ground and Ron quickly picked it up. She took it from him with shaking hands, her cheeks an even brighter shade of pink.

“Madame Fittleworth, I have some unfortunate news,” Riddle said, hesitantly. His eyebrows were furrowed like he was worried about what he was going to say. His eyes darted down to the ground, akin to a child when they know they’re about to be scolded.

“Oh no! What’s happened?” Madame Fittleworth looked at him in concern.

“There was an accident with one of the books I checked out…” He slowly pulled out the destroyed book from behind his back for the Librarian to see. In an instant, her face froze, her eyes locked on the book.

“Oh, _Tom,_ what happened?!” She gushed breathlessly. She held one hand to her chest as if seeing the book was causing her physical pain.

“I'm very sorry, Madame, I didn’t mean for this to happen at all!” Riddle said instantly, looking truely distressed. “I promise I can make this up to you!”

Madame Fittleworth took the book with trembling hands. “Y-You don’t need to worry about that, Tom. You’ve always been so careful with books before. Always returning them before their due date…” The front cover fell off, landing on the floor with a loud smack. “What _happened?_ ” She repeated. “It looks like it got hit by a Bludger!”

“Well… It was technically a Beater’s bat…” Ron tried to joke. Both Riddle and Madame Fittleworth looked at Ron with matching faces of alarm.

“A _Beater’s bat?!”_ Madame Fittleworth repeated, voice suddenly dropping. She whirled on Riddle, eyes wild. “You took a book from the Restricted Section to a Quidditch game?!”

Riddle gaped wordlessly for a moment. “I-I didn’t think –”

“ _This_ was a first edition copy, Mr Riddle! It even had the author’s original notes in the back! This book was near priceless, and you _used it for Bludger practice?!”_

“It was him,” Riddle said, pointing a finger at Ron. “He threw the book.”

“What?!” Ron yelped. “The Beater hit it! They ruined the book, not me!”

Madame Fittleworth turned on Ron, her face a violent shade of red. “You _threw_ the book?! _Have you no respect?!”_

“Umm… I didn’t mean to,” Ron mumbled sheepishly.

“You are going to pay for it!” Madame Fittleworth threatened.

“Why me?! Get that Beater to pay! _They_ hit it!”

“You don’t blame a Kneazle for biting your ankles when it’s hungry! If you throw something at a Beater during a Quidditch game, of course, they’re going to hit it! And this book…” Madame Fittleworth held it to her chest, shuddering. “I will _never_ be able to replace this copy.”

Ron fidgeted awkwardly avoiding everyone’s eye, while Riddle silently patted the sobbing Librarian on the shoulder. Finally, Madame Fittleworth wiped her eyes behind thick lenses and stared hard at Ron. “100 Galleons! That’s how much it will cost to purchase a new copy of this book.”

“100 Galleons…” Ron gaped, feeling the blood drain from his face. “What book is worth that?! I don’t have that much!”

“ _This_ book is worth that, Mr Weasley. And I insist you pay, now!” Reluctantly, Ron pulled out his coin purse. Inside was a handful of Galleons, Sickles and a couple of Knuts. “ _Well,”_ Madame Fittleworth huffed. “You will just have to work for it, then. You can start re-shelving these books, now.” She pointed at a trolley beside her desk, overflowing with books.

“I’m not even a student!” Ron wailed. “You can’t make me work!”

“Pay the 100 Galleons then!” Madame Fittleworth shot at Ron, who gritted his teeth, but didn't say anything, “That's what I thought. _You're_ helping too, Mr Riddle!” She added, glancing at the boy. “As I see it, you’re as guilty as each other.”

Riddle seemed to have enough sense than trying to argue with the fuming Librarian and silently nodded.

 

For almost half an hour, the pair restocked the shelves in the quiet Library. Every movement they made, Ron could hear the rustle of their robes and the dry rubbing of the paper when they picked a book up. The atmosphere between them was so thick Ron thought he could have cut it with a knife. He tried to lighten the mood, but whenever he said something to Riddle, the boy ignored him. If Riddle’s jawline wasn't to tense and knuckles white from how hard he was gripping the books, Ron could have believed he was simply focused on their task.

Moving into the Transfiguration Section, Ron saw there were even fewer students in this part of the Library. Maybe they were still excited from the Quidditch game and didn’t feel like studying yet? He certainly understood that. There were a few students dotted around, though, sitting at the desks, their heads bent over books.

Sighing heavily, Ron picked up a book from the trolley. ‘ _Puckeridge’s Theory and the Potential of Transfiguring the Unknown and the Effect on Formulated Spell-work’_ Ron read the name on the spine. “What does _that_ even mean?! Who would want to read this?”

Riddle gave no indication of hearing Ron, picking up several books from the trolley and walking away to the other end of the aisle.

“I know you don't have Wrackspurts shoved in your ears!” Ron finally snapped. “You're acting like you never had detention before, or something!”

Riddle shoved a book roughly into the shelf, glaring at the row of books.  

“You haven't…” Ron said amazed. But of course, Riddle had the persona of the perfect student! All the Professors (excluding Dumbledore, that was) loved him. Despite this, Ron still found it to be something of a revelation that You-Know-Who never served detention!

“Stop talking nonsense. The less you talk, the sooner this will be finished.” Riddle finally said, still refusing to look at him.

Ron couldn't help but start laughing. “I just can't believe you've never been given detention! Haven't you ever snuck out of your dormitory after curfew, or hexed someone who really deserved it?”

Riddle finally glared at Ron. “I wouldn't have been given detention _now_ if _you_ had kept your mouth shut! Besides,” Riddle’s voice dropped so low, Ron barely heard it. “I'm not foolish enough to get caught doing those things.” 

The awkward silence came back and Ron decided he should focus on working as quickly as possible instead. Holding ‘ _Puckeridge’s Theory’,_ he scanned the shelves for the section. Frowning, he spotted ‘ _Potions Opuscule’_ nestled between the books. 

“Huh,” he said. “What are you doing here?” Pulling the Potions book out, Ron saw white strands connecting to the shelf and – _ohMerlin’sbloody –_ a giant, hairy spider crawled out from hiding and onto the book in Ron’s hand.

Making a sound that would later look back in embarrassment, Ron threw the book to the ground. His heart racing was racing for a long second until the monstrous spider appeared from underneath the book. As if it could sense his fear, the spider turned to Ron and scurried along the ground, straight towards him. Letting out muffled scream, Ron leapt backwards trying to get as much distance between the spider and himself, only to collide heavily with Riddle. Grabbing the boy, Ron shoved him between himself and the creature.

“What's the matter?! What happened?!” Riddle asked alarmed. Ron didn't say anything, his throat clenched up and head faint. Riddle walked slowly over to the fallen book on the ground. His heart still beating out of his chest, Ron watched him slowly kneel, craning his neck to see what Riddle was doing, but he couldn’t make anything out past his back.

Riddle finally stood and – _Bloodyshitefu –_ was holding the spider up in his hand, dangling by one of its legs. The thing was twitching madly, its hairy bulbous body moving as it tried to get free, while it’s other legs jerking up at Riddle’s fingers.

_Nope. Nope, nopenope._ Ron drew his wand, pointing it at Riddle. “Take a step towards me and I'll bloody set you both on fire!” He threatened, trying to stop his wand from shaking.

Riddle looked at him in amazement. “Are you scared of spiders, Mr Weasley?”

Ron didn’t answer, his eyes flicking from Riddle’s face to the spider still moving and twitching in his hand.

“Well…” Riddle drawled, looking smug. “I wouldn't have guessed you had such an illogical fear. It does suit you, I suppose…”

“It's not illogical!” Ron hissed. “J-just look at all its legs! They move and jump an– and what if it bites you?! One bite and you’re dead and you wouldn’t even know what done it!”  

A slow smile appeared on Riddle’s face, his teeth bared. In a slow exaggerated motion, he held the spider up higher, regarding it. Looking back at Ron to make sure that he was watching him, he clenched his fast, crushing the spider in his bare hand. Ron stared wide-eyed as Riddle carefully opened his hand, revealing the dark, gooey mess on the palm of his hand to him.

Riddle then took a step towards Ron, who held his wand higher. Another step and Ron couldn’t take his eyes away from the hand coming closer. He could see the individual legs tangled up in the sticky mess. The moment Riddle was in distance, Ron grabbed his wrist, holding the hand as far out, away from him as possible.

Their faces almost touching, Riddle breathed. “Looks like you owe me one,” before kissing Ron’s trembling lips.

Ron was shaking, his mind had stopped working and his body frozen at once as the boy’s lips parted over his own. Finally, it ended and Riddle pulled his arm free from Ron’s grip. He raised his hand and wiped it down the front of Ron’s chest.

“We’d better get back to work,” Riddle murmured, before turning away from Ron and picking up a book from the trolley.

As Riddle started stacking the shelves again, Ron looked down, and saw a dark mess streaked across his robes and a huge lump of the arachnid’s crushed body sticking out from the liquid.

 

They finished shelving all the books in silence, neither speaking to the other. When they were done, they returned the trolley to Madame Fittleworth at the front desk, who was looking very pleased. She had procured a contract from Gringotts, stating that a certain amount of Galleons would be withdrawn from Ron’s vault each month, until he had paid off the amount for replacing the damaged book.

“I’ll even let you sign with my special quill!” She told him, pulling the ostrich feather from her hair with a flourish. Ron took the quill and scrawled his signature on the document blindly, wanting nothing more than to go.

Dropping the quill onto the desk, Ron hastily left the Library as quickly as he could. Hurrying down the castle’s corridors, Ron was shadowed by Riddle. It wasn’t even hearing his faint footsteps behind him echoing off the stone walls that gave him away, Ron could tell by the looming aura smothering his back that he was close behind him.

Riddle stopped at the castle doors, waving him off. Ron barely heard him call after him as he hurried down the stairs taking them two at a time, catching only him wishing him a safe farewell and his desire to see him again.

Ron didn’t respond. Keeping his head down, he didn’t look back.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason for the delay on this chapter is that I’ve VERY spontaneously decided to move to Canada! I’m flying off mid-October and right now all my spare time is going towards getting that organised. I’m not going to be able to post a new chapter at least until I’ve settled in over there. We have left the story at a good part for a hiatus, though, I think. Starting next chapter the plot is really going to get moving rapidly and I don’t want to start posting until I know I can keep to my schedule; I don’t want to leave it on a cliffhanger and suddenly disappear again! 
> 
> But thank you for your patience! I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can!


	7. An Unexpected Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I’m back! Not really settled in, but I have a lot if spare time right now to get some writing done!  
> We are now going to jump right into the fun stuff in this chapter; All those awful tags I’ve used start becoming relevant now. In this one, we have murder, blood and gore.

 

_"What are they doing?” Ron whispered to Harry, watching the dark figures chant. The gentle breeze that flowed through the Highlands before had stopped, leaving the air stale. Breathing in, Ron could almost taste the Dark magic; the unpleasant sourness on his tongue, drying his mouth that he couldn’t get rid of no matter how many times he swallowed._

_Underneath the Invisibility Cloak, the pair watched the hooded figures continue their ritual. They were standing in a circle facing one another, waving their wands in an unending stream of complicated motions Ron’s eyes couldn’t follow. They were murmuring something, but Ron couldn’t hear. They were too far away, but if they got any closer they would risk getting noticed, even under the Cloak._

_“I dunno…” Harry murmured back. The chanting stopped and the air buzzed with magic, making Ron’s skin prickle._

_“Bring the bones.” One of the figures said clearly and two of them broke away from the circle. They returned carrying a dark cloth, with something wrapped upside. They gently placed bundle in the centre, unwrapping it._

_Ron and Harry inched closer, and Ron’s breath caught in his throat as he saw it was human bones. “Harry…”_

_“Bring the vessels.” Another two stepped into the centre of the circle and each placed something next to the bones. The moon's light caught one object, and Ron recognised it. Hufflepuff’s Cup._

_“How did they...?” All the remnants of You-Know-Who’s Horcruxes were placed under strict security in the Department of Mysteries! Despite the Horcrux being destroyed, Dark Magic lingered in them._

_The hooded figures started chanting again. This time, Ron could see the magic. It started as a small light, but grew and grew, twisting into a maelstrom of burning light and magic. The bones, the Cup, and – a book? No, Riddle’s Diary! They had his Diary too! – Rose up from the ground and into the light, the dark outline of a human shape visible inside._

_“Harry…” Ron whispered again. He didn’t like this at all. Turning to his friend, he saw that Harry was transfixed, his eyes not even blinking as he watched the ritual. Raising his arm up, Ron elbowed Harry roughly. “Harry!” He hissed._

_Harry blinked as if he was momentarily stunned. “Sorry. Let’s stop them.” And threw off the invisibility cloak._

 

*            *            *

 

The biting cool winds of winter warmed and the snow melted, making way for blooming flowers. They in turn wilted beneath the hot sun, beating down on London. The battle against Grindelwald raged on and the Ministry’s forces were starting to get stretched thin. Ron was finally given a place on the front line and so far, he was a valuable asset to them. The last battle was on the streets of Muggle London, where half of the battle was spent trying to protect the Muggles from stray spells. Grindelwald’s forces of course knew this and played it into their strategy against them; Collapsing buildings, sending large area-affecting spells down alleyways, anything to distract them.

Ron could still hear the woman scream in pain as a flame spell burnt at her skin and then when her screams stopped before Ron could help her.

Ron grabbed the bottle of Firewhisky on his desk and drank from the rim. It was close to midnight and he couldn’t sleep. The unread Daily Prophet on the coffee table said it was the 10th of June 1943. And according to Ron’s notes, this summer break Riddle will kill his father and use his death to create another Horcrux. The ring.

Riddle’s fifth year was nearly over and he hadn’t opened the Chamber. No students were petrified, Myrtle was still alive and Hagrid was still studying at Hogwarts. Ron had mixed emotions towards it. He was happy he had managed it, even if it was a fluke. The constant presence of the Aurors at Hogwarts no doubt scared Riddle away from acting out his plan. At the same time though, Ron was _actually_ doing it. Changing history. Changing his future.

He had a meeting not long ago with Cornfoot. The Unspeakable looked defeated as he spoke, telling Ron that with the information they had, they had no way of recreating the spell to send him forward. Ron was literally stuck here, in the past. That night he cried himself to sleep, thinking of how he was never going to see Hermione, Harry or his family ever again. If he lived out a long life, he would see them when they were born and grew up as children, but he would be an old man by that time. He wouldn’t be able to befriend them again, they wouldn’t have the same connection. Ron wondered if _he_ was going to be born again. Would he continue living while his younger self existed? Ron guessed he would do, Hermione went to multiple classes at the same time in their third year. It made sense that it would be the same here.

Ron took another swig from the bottle. Just because he had won with the Chamber doesn’t mean Riddle would suddenly give up on his goal of immortality. The Diary was the first part, now Ron had to move onto the second. He had to find the Riddle family and make sure that Tom Riddle wouldn’t do anything to them. His way to the Riddles were through the Gaunts, Tom Riddle’s _other_ family. The next time he was back in the office, he’d take a look into old records, and see if he could find mention of the incident Harry saw in Dumbledore’s Pensieve. The one with the Ministry man, who ended up arresting Riddle’s grandfather and uncle? And his mum then ran off the Muggle Tom Riddle Senior?

Ron rubbed his hands against his temple. He probably should be getting to bed. Swaying on his feet, Ron dragged himself to his bedroom. He’d try again tomorrow when his mind was fresh and his stomach less full of Firewhisky.

 

The next morning Ron woke with a pounding headache. Cursing the bright light as it winked in his eyes through the partings in the kitchen curtains, he took a Pepper-Up potion, which instantly did the trick. The burning liquid travelled down to his stomach, before swelling in a warm, soothing embrace throughout his body. The heat rising up his neck, Ron felt his ears get uncomfortably hot before white steam shot out from each ear.

Dreading the comments the other Aurors would say, Ron took a slow walk into work, but still managed to arrive in the Ministry only 10 minutes late, which wasn’t too bad. Holding his hands gingerly over his ears in case he got a surprise burst of hot steam, he wearily walked into the office. Braced for rowdy hollers and teasing, Ron was momentarily taken back by the thick silence in the room. Looking around, he saw everyone was wearing the same sombre expression, barely glancing his way.

Wincing at his loud footsteps, Ron walked over to Wendy’s desk.  “What happened?” He whispered to her. She was hunched over her desk; her normally straight shoulders were drooped and her head bowed.

“There was an attack last night.” She said, her voice low. “On Gallagher’s home.”

“Gallagher?! Is he…”

“Wayne wasn’t there. He was on duty. But his family… They didn’t…”

Ron sank into the chair opposite her desk. This is why he became an Auror. What kept him going when he was hiding out with Harry and Hermione. He wanted to protect people and their families, so they wouldn’t know the pain of losing their loved ones.

“He wanted to see you,” Wendy continued. “When you came in.”

“He’s here?!” Ron asked. “Why is he here?”

Wendy just shook her head. “He’s in his office.”

Rising, Ron nodded silently to Wendy and approached Gallagher’s office. Knocking gently, he called out. “…Gallagher? It’s Ron,”

There was a long silence. “Come in,” He heard Gallagher say quietly through the door.

Hesitantly, Ron closed the door behind him and inspected the man. He was sitting at his desk cradling his face in his hands.

“Gallagher… I’m so sorry…” Ron said.

The man took a shuddering breath. “Innocent deaths in war are inevitable. And yet, every time, every report we get, I know I have failed them. Lucy… Little Sadie. I failed them both.” A heart wrenching sob escaped his lips and his entire body shook as he cried.

Ron looked away, trying to give the man some privacy as he broke. Finally, the sobs quietened and Gallagher spoke, his voice cracking. “Did you lose people? In your war?”

“…Yes.” Ron said quietly. “Everyone lost someone close to them. Either they died fighting for what they believed, or protecting others, or… They were just caught up in the wrong place.”

“I want to stop this war,” Gallagher said. “I want to stop this from happening again. Ever.”

Ron nodded. “I feel the same way.”

Gallagher roughly rubbed his face clean, his eyes still swollen. “Is it still worse? Your war than this?”

Ron thought of Fred’s pale face, his eyes blank. Of Mrs Longbottom, her face sunken and gaunt, not recognising her son as he stood in front of her. Of Lupin and Tonks laid out on the floor, never able to see Teddy grow up. Of Percy screaming at George to take down Fred’s Christmas stocking that he hung above the fireplace. Of _Mudblood_ carved into Hermione’s arm and her crying in the middle of the night, scratching it until it started bleeding, trying to remove the white scars.

“Yeah.” He said. “It is.”

“I will stop it,” Gallagher promised, his eyes burning. “I will end this war and all future ones.”

 

Speaking to Gallagher lit a fire inside Ron. He had to stop Riddle. He couldn’t let You-Know-Who come to power; he had to cut off the snake’s head now before it got too powerful, there was no doubt in his mind of this anymore. Leaving Gallagher’s office Ron went straight to the Archive Rooms. Dusty and forgotten, it was the dumping place of old and irrelevant files that they couldn’t throw out, but had no need for. Clearing himself a space on the floor, Ron poured over decades of arrests. 

_Galston, Allen (1927)_

_Galston, Robert (1921)_

_Garland, Russell (1928)_

_Gaunt, Marvolo (1926)_

Ahah! This was it! Ron pulled the folder out with a flourish. Marvolo Gaunt, Tom Riddle’s grandfather.

_Head of the Department of Law and Enforcement Ogden, Robert investigated reports of attacks of Muggles in Little Hangleton […]_

Little Hangleton! That’s the town!

Grabbing scrap piece of paper, Ron scribbled down the name. He had to go find the Riddles, and make sure that they would survive a possible encounter with their estranged son and grandson.

 

He found mansion with relative ease; it was the grandest estate in the town. When he first arrived in Little Hangleton, Ron headed to the pub, hoping the locals in there would be willing to help him. Sure enough, in a small town they were more than willing to gossip about the stuck up family ‘ _on the big ol’ hill over that way’_. About sixteen years prior, Tom Riddle Senior suddenly eloped with the tramp’s only daughter! The tramp, Marvolo Gaunt, was a deranged man who used to live with his two demented children ‘ _further ou’ of town, the other way, jus’ turn right at the crossroads’,_ but he died years ago. It was just his son, Morfin left. But about eight months after Tom Riddle Senior disappeared he came back! The damage had already been done though, prospective marriage matches didn’t want anything to do with him and he remains to this day unmarried, living with his parents.

Now, hiding in the grounds, making sure to keep an eye on the gardener planting bulbs, Ron considered his options. He needed to spend a few days investigating them, figuring out their schedule. If he could get the time away from the Ministry was going to be the tricky thing now, especially since he was playing an active role in the war. The front door opened and a man stepped out. Ron heart skipped a beat when he saw him. Tom Riddle was really a splitting image of his father. Watching the older man order the butler to ready his car, Ron couldn’t help but think of the man’s son.

After the Quidditch match, Ron never did go back to Hogwarts. He didn’t seek Riddle out and the boy didn’t try communicate with him in any way. It was almost as if his time with Riddle never happened. _And it won’t happen again._ Ron told himself. _Any of it._ He shouldn’t have allowed himself to get so close to Riddle, but with his constant pushing and pushing, Ron’s yearning for any kind of contact with another person allowed it to develop in the messed-up way it did.

Watching the man drive away in an ostentatious yellow car, Ron thought to himself that he would have to keep an eye on the Muggle family. He wouldn’t do anything, not just yet, but he had to be alert for anything suspicious, magical or otherwise. Maybe he should go visit the Gaunt house too? Riddle killed his family with Morfin’s wand and pinned it on his uncle after. If he could _warn_ the man, at least he could make it more difficult for Riddle. Standing up, Ron glanced at the gardener who was now watering the plants and ducked away.

 

The Gaunt house was… well, rundown. To be polite. The Weasley’s were never rich, and it was always something Ron was self-conscious about growing up, but his parents tried their hardest to make the lives of his brothers’ and Ginny’s as best they could. But seeing the Gaunt house made Ron’s chest swell with love for his parents and the home they provided him. The Gaunt’s in comparison weren’t just poor, they lived in _poverty._ Looking at the overgrown weeds, the broken roof and weathered timber walls, Ron had to shake his thoughts before knocking on the door. 

“Who’s there?!” A ragged voice yelled out from inside.

“Erm…Hello, I need to –” The door was flung open and a dirty man jumped out, wielding a knife. “Whoa!” Ron yelled out, grabbing Morfin’s arm, locking it behind his back. The man hissed something and Ron saw his other hand pull out a wand. “No you don’t!” He said, kicking the wand straight from his hand. Morfin let out an enraged cry and tried to dislodge Ron, but Ron yanked harder on his arm, causing Morfin freeze up, yelling in pain. For several moments neither of them moved. “We all good here? You going to stop trying to fight me?”

Morfin hissed something again in Parseltongue and spat on the floor. Ron gritted his teeth, in disgust. “Don’t try anything.” He warned before pushing Morfin away. The ragged man scrambled to his feet and brandished his knife at Ron again. Ron pointed his wand at him.

Morfin spat on the ground between them. “Who are you?” He hissed out.

“I’m… Look, my name’s not important. I’m just here to warn you.”

“About what?”

“There might be another wizard coming to your house. Just… don’t let him in.”

Morfin brushed his mangy hair out of his eyes. “And why don’t I just kill him?”

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “Because I managed to disarm you without magic? You won’t stand a chance against him.” Morfin didn’t say anything, only continued to stare at Ron, his posture tense. “So… This person, he’s going to try pin some murders on you. Maybe. He might not, but if he _does_ come around, just don’t let him in. Apparate away, or something. I have an apartment in London, near Diagon Alley; I could protect you.”

Morfin hissed something out in Parseltongue again. “Get the hell away from me.”

“Okay, just… Remember what I said. I’m trying to help you.”

Morfin hissed again like an angry snake and Ron took that as his cue to leave. He really hoped that was enough.

 

*            *            *

 

Weeks went by and as often as he could Ron went to watch over the Riddles. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, they seemed like a typical rich Muggle family. Or at least Ron figured they were, he wasn’t really an expert on the matter. But they had fancy dinners each night, played this game where they hit a tiny ball across a field and rode horses. Ron occasionally checked on Morfin too and he seemed to be going okay. He’d steal food from the Muggle village every other day and speak to snakes he found in the grass. Ron saw him butcher a snake once, which really surprised him. He thought snakes were their friends, but he guessed You-Know-Who had to have gotten his crazy from _somewhere._

One evening, Ron had just finished making himself dinner in his apartment (bangers and mash, but he could never get the gravy smooth) when a knock came at the door. Grabbing his wand off the counter, Ron held it behind his back as he walked towards the door. Peering through the peephole, Ron was surprised when he saw a familiar dark haired teenager standing on the other side.

Opening the door, Ron stared wide-eyed at Riddle. “How did you know I lived here?”

“Good evening, Mr Weasley,” Riddle said smoothly, a smile playing on his lips. “Can I come in?” Stunned, Ron stood aside for him.

Gracefully stepping past, Riddle stopped in the middle of the room, surveying the apartment. Ron closed the door behind him, watching him closely. “How did you know I live here?” He repeated.

“I have my secrets,” Riddle said lightly, turning to look at the desk covered in papers.

Heart racing, Ron rushed over to the desk. “S-Sorry! Wasn’t expecting you coming over.” He grabbed the papers hastily. “I’ll just… clean up.”

Riddle watched him shove the papers in the desk draw and lock them with a spell. Ron glanced back at Riddle. “Sorry, it was Ministry information. Confidential.”

Riddle smiled at him again. “Of course.”

“So… What are you doing here?” Ron asked him.

Riddle stepped towards him. “We haven’t seen each other in a while.” Ron felt his heart starting to race. “I thought…” Riddle stopped in front of him, his voice dropping. “We could maybe…” Riddle traced his fingers along Ron’s arm, leaving a trial goose bumps. “Spend some time together?”

“Are you hungry? Do you want food?” Ron rushed into the kitchen. “I just cooked bangers and mash. Probably not enough for two people, but I’ve got a carrot cake in the fridge. Could make a cuppa tea after and have that too.”

As he served up the food, Ron made the mistake of looking at Riddle who was leering at him. “Oh, Mr Weasley, that’s not the type of sausage – ”

“Don’t you bloody say that!” Ron’s face burned red as he wielded the metal tongs at him threateningly. “Don’t you bloody dare!”

Riddle laughed that made Ron glance back at him. That… wasn’t the type of laugh Ron’s heard him make before. There was the high-pitched, I’m-Going-To-Be-A-Dark-Lord-One-Day laugh and then that deep chocolatey sort of laugh, but this was… different.

Pouring the gravy on the mash, Ron set both plates on the table. Riddle looked down at his plate with ill-concealed disgust. “…I’m fine. I ate beforehand.”

“Why are you here? Really?”

“I told you, I want to spend the night with you.”

“I… I think you should leave…”

Riddle leaned into him, their breath mingling. “Ron…” Ron took a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinking about you, all summer. Alone, in the orphanage.” Riddle’s voice had dropped to a low murmur. He ran his hands up Ron’s chest, to the buttons. “Dreaming about you… _Fantasising_ about you.” Riddle slowly unbuttoned Ron’s robes. Ron stepped back and Riddle followed, until he hit the counter, the edge digging painfully into his back. Ron gripped the counter tightly as Riddle stepped in close, their knees knocking. Riddle’s face stopped inches before his own, his eyes flickering between Ron’s. Finally, he leaned in, pressing an almost hesitant kiss on Ron’s mouth.   

Answering with an enthusiasm that surprised even himself, Ron quickly felt himself getting light-headed as the kiss became heated. _Snogging him isn’t so bad…_ The stray thought popped up in his head, making him freeze. He was kissing a young You-Know-Who. Again. After he vowed to stop him. Again. Then Riddle’s hands started undoing his belt and Ron struggled to think what the problem was. 

“I was thinking, that maybe you could adopt me,” Riddle said breathlessly, his open mouth trailing across the stubble on Ron’s jaw. His hand on Ron’s skin were scolding hot. _Oh, Merlin this is amazing, it’s brilliant, it’s –_ “Would you like that? If I called you _Father?”_

Wait, _what?_

Ron pushed Riddle back, looking at him in alarm.  “The bloody hell are you talking about?” The spell between them was broken and Ron gained some semblance of control. With shaky hands, Ron fumbled over his belt and buttons. “Look, you really had better leave.”

A look of panic crossed Riddle’s face. “I can’t.” He said quickly. “The orphanage has shut their doors already; I won’t be able to get in.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “You’re a wizard, I’m sure a locked door can’t stop you.”

“I can’t do magic outside of Hogwarts.”

“The Ministry has inactivated all Traces and lifted the ban on Underage Sorcery due to the War.”

 “Please, Ron…” Riddle begged. “You know there’s the curfew. Let me stay the night. I won’t try anything again…”

Ron looked suspiciously at Riddle. He was acting _very_ strangely. What was he after? Ron glanced at the desk again. The summer break was giving Riddle more freedom to move around, since he wasn’t trapped in the castle anymore. He must be here to learn more about Ron, to see just how much Ron knew about him. The only thing incriminating was those papers, Ron had nothing else either about Riddle or the future in his apartment. If Riddle went to the bathroom or something, Ron could take the papers out and hide them in his bedroom.

“Alright,” Ron said eventually, and Riddle smiled triumphantly. “But you’re sleeping on the couch.”

Riddle’s face twitched, but he smiled smoothly again. “Thank you, Ron.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ron said walking back to his now cold dinner on the table.

 

Sunshine shone through the curtains and Ron opened his eyes wearily. He had trouble sleeping that night, all night he heard Riddle pacing around his apartment. Riddle was trying to be quiet, Ron thought, but with his nerves on edge, he heard every creak of the floorboards. It took only about an hour for Riddle to excuse himself to the bathroom and Ron raced to the desk and took the papers out. Shoving them in his sock drawer, he quickly worked the strongest locking spell he knew.

Sitting up, Ron grabbed his wand and checked the papers. They were still intact, undisturbed. Breathing a sigh of relief, Ron got dressed and went to see how Riddle was doing.

Silently opening the door into the living room, Ron found Riddle sitting upright on the sofa, still wearing his robes from last night, despite Ron giving a set of pyjamas to wear. He staring off at the distant wall, his mind a million miles away.

“Hey,” Ron said, alerting him.

Riddle started, snapping out of whatever he was thinking about. Catching himself, Riddle smiled slyly at Ron. “Good morning.”

“’Morning,” Ron said. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Yes, it was … very comfortable.” Riddle stood up and brushed down his robes, trying to get the creases out of them. “The sun is up, I had best be going.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast? You didn’t eat anything last night.”

“No, I don’t want to trouble you any further.”

“Alright, well…” Ron’s voice trailed off as Riddle stepped towards him. Hesitating only a moment, Riddle leaned forward and pressed his lips against Ron’s. His lips were warm and soft and Ron had just started to lean into it, when Riddle backed off.

“Goodbye, Ron.” Riddle murmured.

“Goodbye,” Ron said confused, watching Riddle shut the apartment door behind him.

 

The whole morning, Ron turned his apartment upside down. He was looking for anything Riddle might have found that would have given him information about Ron, or something Riddle might have planted behind, a device or spell or _something_ that Riddle could use to spy on him with. He found nothing though, which didn’t ease the uneasy feeling Ron had in his stomach.

He had the day off work, so Ron decided that he’d go check on the Riddles again. It had become something of a habit now, to drop by the mansion in his spare time. But when he Apparated behind the Gardener’s shed and instantly heard a chatter of voices, he knew today would be different.

Peering around, Ron saw a huge crowd of people standing outside the mansion's gates. Wait, weren’t they those… Please-men too? That were from the Muggle’s Law and Enforcement Division? Why would so many of them be here? The dreaded, sick feeling in his stomach worsened and Ron snuck out of the Riddle grounds and around to the crowd.

As he approached he heard the excited chatter of the crowd and one of the Please-men talking to them. “We are not revealing any information at this time! Please go back to your houses! This is a crime scene!”

“Why’d you arrest Frank?” A voice in the crowd called out.

As he stepped into the crowd, Ron could see the frustration on the Please-man’s face. “As I said, we are not revealing any information until we have more details! There will be a statement made later at the station. Now clear off!”

The crowd grumbled in annoyance, and people started to walk away.

“Hey,” Ron grabbed someone’s arm. The woman looked slightly alarmed. “What’s going on?”

“The Riddles were murdered last night!” She gushed out, wide-eyed. “The maid found them this morning! She came screaming down the street!”

“They were mutilated!” Someone else injected in. “There’s blood all over the walls! Some of the cops who first went in actually fainted! One came running out, saying he’s never seen a murder as grotesque in his career!”

“They arrested Frank, the Gardener!” The first lady said, eager to gossip. “They found him with blood all down his clothes and all on his tools…”

“I still don’t believe it was Frank. He must have been set up.”

“I heard that he confessed. Went into detail about what he done…”

“OI! I SAID CLEAR OFF!” The Please-man roared over the crowd.  Shaking, Ron stepped forward to the man. “Are you deaf?! I _said –”_

_“Imperio,”_ Ron whispered, his wand hidden up his sleeve. The Please-man’s scowling face softened instantly. “Let me pass.”

“Of course, sir!” The man said. “Watch the floors, they’re slippery.”

It was surreal walking towards the mansion. His body felt heavy, like it wasn’t his own. It was just a puppet and he was pulling the strings. Ron had to cast the Imperius Curse several more times as he got to the door. He faintly noted how much easier it was to cast them on Muggles than Wizards. It must be their absence of magic; they lacked the natural resistance to the curse. The Investigators inside pointed him towards the dining room.

Numbly, Ron stepped into the room and his breath was punched out of his lungs.

The once would-have-been pristine room was painted red. Thick blood was pooled on the tiled floors and growing out in the grout, like tree branches reaching for the sun. Dried splatters covered the white walls, like an abstract painting. And the bodies…

Ron gasped and pressed his hand to his mouth feeling bile rise. They were barely recognisable, their bodies hacked apart like it was done by a crazed madman. Tearing his eyes away from the scattered pieces of the dark-haired man’s body, Ron stumbled from the room and threw up on the Persian rug in the foyer.

“You’re the fourth one to throw up!” The inspector said cheerfully.

Shaking, Ron wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. He had done this. He hadn’t protected them. He should have cast spells! Protection charms, enchantments, anything! Instead of a clean death, Ron had subjected them to… to _this._

No, he couldn’t think that. Only one person did this: Tom Riddle.

_But, how?_ Ron thought desperately. Riddle had spent the whole night in his apartment! There was no way he could have been _here_ and with Ron at the same time… Oh, Merlin. Ron felt his stomach spasm again, but nothing was left in his stomach to come up. Coughing, Ron felt saliva pooling in his mouth, as he heaved. Riddle set him up to be his alibi. But _how_ did he…?

Ron thought of how strange Riddle was acting that night. Was it nerves? Was he struggling with his mask because he knew what he had to do later? He snuck out in the middle of the night and killed his family. But the footsteps; Ron had heard him pacing around the apartment all night. Did he swap places with someone in the middle of the night? But what if Ron came out of his room and saw him?

Ron’s head was spinning and he couldn’t think properly. The bodies in the next room swam in front of his eyes again. The expressions of terror on their faces, barely visible through the splatters of blood…

Riddle had to have known. He _knew_ Ron was going to try stop him from killing his father and he created a plan to not only deceive Ron, but to use him as an alibi to claim his innocence should anyone even ask. He was a monster. He was the same monster now as he became. The only difference was that You-Know-Who’s appearance matched what was inside of him.

And Ron had been fooled. He tried, he tried so hard, but he had been charmed like so many others, before and after. He couldn’t let this go on. He tried subtlety and Riddle turned it against him. He had no choice now. He was going to stop him and if the price was a life sentence in Azkaban, then so be it.

Walking behind an empty corner, Ron Apparated out of the Riddle mansion.

 


	8. Underneath the Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this was a difficult chapter to write! Ron decided to go completely off plan, which luckily didn’t mess up the future plot, just fast-tracked it, rather.  
> Current chapter warnings include more murder, blood and gore, and suicide.

 

Ron stood outside Wool’s Orphanage. The dull building was surrounded by a wrought iron fence, the high metal spikes enforcing the division between the orphanage and the rest of London. Months ago he had found that this was the orphanage Riddle was from. It did take him a while since there were so many Muggle orphanages in London. The Muggles had their own war on currently and sadly it was leaving many families broken and children abandoned. He had to make fellytone calls to all the orphanages, asking if they had a boy matching Riddle’s description before he finally found this one.

His body still shaking from what he witnessed in the Riddle manor, Ron stepped through the iron gates towards the dispirited building. A few younger children were playing outside on grey concrete; they were bouncing balls, and drawing pictures on the ground with colourful chalk. Some pointed at him, whispering that maybe he had come to adopt one of them.

Stepping inside, Ron looked down the bare corridor, lined only with cold tiles on the walls and floor. At the far end was a stone staircase leading up to the high floors. It looked like a horrible place to grow up. Walking down, Ron’s footsteps echoed back into his ears, before he stopped outside a door reading _‘Doreen Cole, Head Matron’_ and knocked.

Footsteps shuffled and the door opened, revealing a middle-aged lady with her hair pulled back in a bun, on the other side. “Yes? Can I help you?”

“You’ve got a boy here called Tom Riddle,” Ron said. “I’d like to have a chat with him.”

Mrs Cole’s face went pale. “Oh, oh dear.” She said. “Y-You need to make an appointment to see the children for adopting –”

“I’m not here to adopt him, I just need to talk to him.”

“What did he do?” Mrs Cole whispered. “I thought… That boarding school was good for him, when he’d been coming back he has been so much more docile…”

Ron rolled his eyes and quickly scanned the hallway, seeing that they were still alone. _“Imperio._ Now, please tell me which room is Tom Riddle’s.”

“Of course! Head up the stairs to the second floor. It’s the first door on the left.” She said pleasantly.

 

Riddle’s head snapped up from reading whatever book he had when Ron opened his bedroom door. He was sitting on his bed, the large book open on his crossed legs. He was wearing the same clothes as the children in the courtyard; a worn grey tunic and matching trousers. Like the rest of the orphanage, his room was bare save for only the necessities; a small bed, desk and chair, and a wardrobe. “Mr Weasley!” He sounded surprised. “What are you doing here?”

Ron shut the door behind him, his jaw clenched. “I have nothing to say to you.” He said drawing out his wand and pointing it straight at Riddle. “And I don’t want to hear any more of your lies.”

Riddle held up his hands, looking alarmed. “I… don’t know what you’re talking about. If this was about last night –”

“Yes this is about last night!” Ron yelled at him. “You killed them! You used me as your alibi so you could kill your father and grandparents!”

Riddle’s shocked expression froze for a split second, but Ron saw it. He saw the flash of triumph; of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named standing in place of the boy and Ron knew he had to do this. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr Weasley. I’m an orphan. I don’t have any family.”

“Stop playing around!” Ron yelled. “I know you did it! I know who you are!”

“Mr Weasley, you’re confused,” Riddle said carefully, slowly rising from the bed, his palms still facing Ron as if he had just encountered a dangerous animal. “I was with _you_ the entire night.”

He was lying. He was telling more lies and trying to manipulate it to his advantage again, like he did with everything else. But Ron wouldn’t listen to him anymore, he wouldn’t get fooled again. “I should have done this a long time ago,” Ron muttered, more to himself than Riddle. Riddle’s eyes widened and in that moment Ron believed the look of terror on his face. _“Avada Kedavra!”_

Nothing happened. There was no flash of green light, no body crumpling to the floor. The pair stared at each other, matching looks of alarm and confusion, but Riddle acted first. _“Expelliamus!”_ Ron’s wand flew from his hand and landed in Riddle’s outstretched hand. A gleeful expression grew on Riddle’s face and he started laughing.

“Wh-What…” Ron tried to say.

“And just when I think you can’t be any more incompetent, you prove me wrong!” Riddle laughed, an ugly grin on his face. “An Auror who can’t cast the Unforgiveables! What use are you?! Would you like me to show you how that Curse should be cast, Mr Weasley?” Ron backed away as Riddle trained his wand on him. “After all, this is _self-defence._ You attacked me first. I have the _memories_ to prove it.” Ron’s back hit the door, but he could feel the magic tingling along it, trapping him in.

“But before I do, I’m going to ask you a few questions.” Riddle said in mild tone that didn’t match his expression. “How did you know I was going to kill them? More specifically, how did you know I was going to use Morfin Gaunt as the scapegoat?” Ron shook his head. He wouldn’t say anything. Riddle narrowed his eyes. “Answer me! _Crucio!”_

Ron screamed as a thousand hot blades sunk into his flesh, as his skin burned, as his bones broke. It lasted forever, overwhelming him, consuming him, breaking his body and his mind, over and over. The pain abruptly stopped, leaving Ron gasping, lying on his back on the orphanage floor. Faintly, he heard a panicked knocking at the door.

“Tom! Open the door!” It was Mrs Cole on the other side, she must have heard Ron’s screams from two floors below. Riddle slowly stalked towards the door.

“No!” Ron gasped. “Don’t!”

He stepped over Ron and flung the door open, revealing Mrs Cole, standing there with a horrified expression.

“Run! Get out of here!” Ron yelled at her, his voice croaky.

Her face smoothed and a pleasant smile formed. “Yes, a run would be lovely.” She said, before turning and tottering off down the hallway.

Riddle stared after her with a look of bewilderment. “Did you… Cast an _Imperius Curse_ on her?”

“I wasn’t in the mood to play nice and sweet talk my way in, earlier.” Ron spat out as he pushed himself up, his arms trembling.

“I retract my previous statement,” Riddle said, sounding mildly impressed. “You can cast _one_ of the Unforgivables. You’ve exceeded my expectations, Mr Weasley, congratulations. Now, as I was saying,” Riddle turned to Ron, staring down at him. “How did you know about Morfin?”

Ron glared at Riddle. “I won’t tell you anything.”

Riddle continued as if Ron hasn’t said anything. “He warned me about you. He said that wizard, who _very interestingly_ matched your description, approached him weeks ago, telling him that someone would pin murders on him. So, _how do know my future before it happens?”_

“I don’t know!”

“STOP LYING TO ME!” Riddle screamed. “Tell me how you know! _Crucio!”_

Agonising pain tore Ron apart again. For what felt like hours later the curse lifted and Ron came to consciousness again. He tried to stand, but Riddle waved his wand and a backbreaking pressure slammed him back onto the ground. “You’re a bloody lunatic!” Ron wheezed out at him.

“And you are the most unremarkable person I have ever met and I grew up _here_.” Riddle spat. “Yet you are the only one who knows me. The _real me._ And you hate me.”

“O-of course I do!” Ron gasped. “You murdered your family! You... You mutilated their bodies…”

Riddle’s eyes seemed to glisten in the light. “You hated me long before last night. Besides, _I_ never that to them, the gardener did.”

Ron’s mouth hung open. “You made the gardener _kill them?”_

“Oh no!” Riddle’s eyes widened. “ _I_ killed them! But the Killing Curse leaves no traces and I couldn’t use my wizard scapegoat anymore, so I made the gardener… conceal my actions.”

“You’re a bloody lunatic.”

Riddle made a frustrated noise. “Yes, you’ve _already said that_. Tell me why you don’t like me!”  

“’Cause you’re barking mad!” Ron fired back, struggling up to his knees. The pressure on his back kept him bowed over, but he could raise his neck to look at Riddle. “You’re a murderer! You have no concept of… of morals or anything! You have no idea the pain and hurt you cause other people. Everything you do is just for some petty goal of yours!”

Riddle was silent for a long moment. “What petty goal?” He said, his voice quiet, but Ron heard it as clearly as if he had shouted it. “Who have I caused such horrible pain to? My _father?”_ He spat the word out. “My _grandparents?_ No-one will mourn their deaths. So, who is it you’re speaking about?”

Ron’s opened his mouth several times before stumbling over his voice. “The gardener! You just ruined his life! He’s going to be in a Muggle prison for the rest of his life now because of what you did!”

Riddle rolled his eyes. “He’s insignificant. Even by Muggle standards, he wasn’t anyone of importance.”

“Do you even hear what you’re –”

“Weasley! Auror Ron Weasley! Come in!” Both Ron and Riddle froze as McLaggen’s voice started coming out from inside Ron’s robe. “Damn it, Weasley! Answer me!”

Never taking his eyes off Riddle, Ron slowly reached into his pocket and pulled out the hand mirror. “… McLaggen?”

McLaggen’s face was unusually stern in the small mirror. “Where the hell are you, Weasley?! There’s been another attack by Grindelwald, in Whitechapel. We need every available Auror there now!”

Ron’s heart started racing. Riddle was watching him closely, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his wand tighter. “I’m in Wool’s Orphanage,” He said. “With… Tom Riddle.”

McLaggen swore. “For _fuck's_ sake Weasley! Stop getting your dick wet and _get over there now!”_ McLaggen disappeared from the mirror.

Ron breathed in shakily. He had his escape. He hadn’t won the encounter, not by any means, but he could escape with his life, which was more than he was expecting only a few minutes ago. Riddle obviously realised this as well, because his face had a furious scowl across it. “So you expect me to let you go?” He hissed at Ron. “So you can round up more Aurors to come back and arrest me?”

“No, I won’t,” Ron said truthfully. “I won’t get the Ministry involved in this.”

“And why should I believe you?”

“Because… I’d get arrested too, if… they knew what happened here.” 

Riddle's eyes narrowed at Ron’s words, considering his words. "I confessed to killing them. Your actions would be justified by the Ministry."

"No, that's not- Look, you have to let me go. McLaggen knows I was here last, so if I don’t show up in Whitechapel soon, he’s going to come here first. And you _don’t_ want the Aurors to be suspicious of you.”

“No, since I already have one.” Riddle spat, angry. “Fine. Leave. But the next time I see you, I _will_ kill you.”

Scrambling to his feet, Ron wearily eyed his wand in Riddle’s hand. The boy held it out, his own still pointing at Ron, who quickly snatched it from his pale grip. Not wanting to turn his back on Riddle, Ron inched out of the room, making sure to keep his wand pointing down. The instant Riddle was out of his sight, Ron fled.

 

*            *            *

 

After the very long day, Ron was finally back in the office pouring his second glass of Firewhisky. The first he basically inhaled as soon as he got the bottle open. Raising the shaky glass to his lips, Ron swallowed the burning liquid. It was the worst-case scenario, that’s the only way he could describe what had happened. He failed to prevent Riddle from killing his father. Riddle not only knows with 100% certainty now that Ron was not only trying to stop him from creating Horcruxes, but would be willing to kill him. But Ron can’t cast the Killing Curse. And Riddle disarmed him, so next time they face each other Ron’s wand might not even acknowledge Ron has its rightful owner, but rather Riddle.

Ron buried his face in his hands. Today couldn’t possibly get any worse.

Riddle didn’t kill him straight away, Ron hopelessly considered. He tortured him and talked, Merlin the boy liked talking, and allowed for McLaggen’s interruption. But what now? Ron promised him he wouldn’t tell the Ministry, but would Riddle believe him? Or would he act out against Ron, hunt him down and finish the job, for the risk of Ron not keeping his word too great.

Leaning back, Ron stared up at the ceiling. He knew Riddle suspected him from the very beginning, but the extent at which Riddle went to, to blind-side Ron from his actions, he wasn’t prepared for. Harry had said Riddle was the smartest student to attend Hogwarts and he just proved it.

“Weasley.”

Ron’s head dropped down and saw Gallagher standing at his desk. The man looked ragged. His eyes were baggy and bloodshot, and beard messy and unkempt. His robes were wrinkled and had stains on them. After his family was murdered, he became a shell of the man he once was; He barely left work now, sleeping and eating only out of basic necessity. His leadership changed too, now ordering harsh measures for dealing with Grindelwald’s forces. Some Aurors were glad, agreeing that these brutal measures were the best way of ending the war, but many were uneasy, worried about the moral implications of their actions. 

“I need to talk to you, Weasley.” Gallagher’s eyes were wild. Ron’s heart started thudding in his chest. “It’s about the Dark Wizard from your time.”

Oh Merlin, does he know? Had he figured out what really happened in the orphanage already? Ron wasn’t ready for this!

“I need to show you.” Gallagher continued. “We’ll Apparate there.”

Heart beating painfully, Ron cautiously stepped around the desk and took Gallagher’s outstretched arm. The familiar sensation of being forcedly pressed from all directions lasted for several seconds, before abruptly ending causing his ears to pop. Ron opened eyes and saw they were in a dark living room. He tasted Firewhisky in the back of his throat and swallowed thickly trying to keep it down.

Looking around, Ron saw that the living room belonged to a homely, if dusty house. The curtains were closed, but had cheerful yellow and purple flowers on them. The fireplace was unlit and along the mantle were several pictures of – Ron’s breath caught in his throat. This was Gallagher’s home. There was the man, cheerfully laughing next to a round-faced woman. The next was a young girl, stirring a giant pink cauldron, colourful bubbles rising out from it. After that was of Gallagher holding the girl on his shoulders while she pointed and laughed at something out of the frame, her ice-cream dripping on Gallagher’s head.

A shaky breath next to Ron reminded him of the man and Ron turned to him. Gallagher was looking at the frames, his face raw.

“When we first met and I read your mind,” He started, still looking at the photos. “I saw the Dark Wizard you fought. You said he was in this time now, that he was a student at Hogwarts.”

Ron swallowed, not knowing where Gallagher was going. When the man didn’t speak, Ron said “Yes, he is.”

“With so much going on with the war, I had forgotten what I saw in your mind. But then this happening, to Lucy and ... to Sadie, it made me remember. I remember your pain and fear in those memories. I remember you telling Cornfoot you wanted to kill him in our time and him opposing it. But I understand. You have been through so much pain and loss and here, you have the chance to prevent it all from happening. It _would_ change time, but it would be for the better. Cornfoot doesn’t understand that. He’s too caught up in what-ifs and theories, he doesn’t actually _experience_ the world he’s living him.”

Gallagher turned to Ron finally, his eyes shining. “I’ve done it.”

Ron couldn’t breathe, his heart was thundering against his ribcage, pressing against his lungs. “Done what?” He whispered faintly.

“Killed him. So he can’t hurt anyone in the future.”

The world spun around Ron. He gasped for air, but there was none. “You… what?”

“I wanted you to know. I took on the burden for you.”

Ron couldn’t believe it. It had all ended. His cover had been blown, Riddle knew everything. And now, he was gone. “How… Are you going to cover it up? Bystander caught in the war?” Ron asked, his words sounded wrong in his ears.

“Yes. I need to move the body, though.”

“The… The body? He’s here?!”

“I brought him here first. I need your help to move it.” Gallagher wanted him to help set up a crime scene. With Riddle’s body. Had he drunk more Firewhisky than he realised? Had he passed out at his desk and was now dreaming? “It’s in here,” Gallagher lead Ron blindly to a room down the corridor. He stood back when they reached it, letting Ron go in first. With shaky hands, he reached out and turned the door knob.

The room looked like a spare bedroom. Muted colours, with floral patterns on the curtains and bedspread. Nothing unique to indicate someone frequently slept in there. In the centre of the room, lay a body.

The head was facing away, but Ron knew. He had spent so long, so many hours upon hours thinking about Riddle. The way he held himself and the way he moved. His face when he was trying to charm someone and then the expressions he made when his mask dropped and he didn’t pretend. The way his body felt against Ron’s and the feeling of his mouth on Ron’s.  

Ron knew instantly that the body wasn’t Riddle.

His legs numb, he stepped forward and rolled the body over. Ron felt himself shake as he stared down at a familiar face. It was the boy… The one who fell over when the hippogriff attacked; who was forced to carry the girl’s bag. Nott’s young, pale face stared blankly up at him, the life inside long gone.

“This isn’t him... Gallagher, this isn’t him!”

“Wh…What do you mean?” Gallagher’s face was deathly pale. “It has to be him. _It has to be._ I worked it out. A Dark Lord, with nothing to lose and everything to gain. He used Pureblood propaganda and killed Muggleborns. A Pureblood from a disgraced family! Only they would be able to rally masses around such a cause! Gordon Nott is the only student at Hogwarts who fits that description!” Gallagher started shouting, his face crazed.

Ron backed away, alarmed. “Gallagher… This isn’t him. Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who.”

“Oh Merlin, Oh Merlin…” Gallagher started hyperventilating, his breaths coming out in short, rapid gasps. “No, no, NO! You’re wrong!” The man stumbled back, gripping the wall as his face crumpled. “What… Have I done…?”

“Look, we can cover this up…” Ron tried saying, but Gallagher shook his head like an elephant batting flies away.

“I can’t… This… I’ve destroyed… I’ve ruined…” Gallagher rambled, unable to form sentences as he stared at the dead body. “I can’t,” He repeated and pulled his wand out of his robes.

Ron watched wide-eyed, his body frozen. It happened so quickly, but later Ron would be able to recall every split second in detail, slowly reliving the moment over and over again in his mind. Gallagher pointed his wand under his own neck and said one word.

_“Reducto.”_

Hot liquid hit Ron’s face and robes. Eyelids shutting to protect his eyes, didn’t stop him from seeing the red explode onto the wall behind the man. Ron tried to gasp for air, but his throat had cut off and his chest wouldn’t move. Stumbling back, he fell over Nott’s body, landing heavy on the ground. Fumbling, he tried to stand up, but his hands came into contact with cold skin, making him yank away in panic.

He had to get away. He needed to go. Vision blurry with red dots from the droplets of blood that clung to his eyelashes, Ron stumbled out of the room, but his legs couldn’t support his body properly. Ron barely noticed the warm liquid underneath his hands as he fell. Using the walls to support him, he finally stumbled out of the house, the sun outside blinding him and the world was spinning. His heart was beating too fast, his breaths came in tight gasps, not taking in any air.

The sun disappeared and the world went dark. Ron didn’t even feel his body hit the ground.

 


	9. The Undesirable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Magical battles are really hard to write!! Current chapter warnings include character death.

 

_“You’re too late!” One of the Death Eaters roared at him. “We will bring the Dark Lord back from when he was at his most powerful! You won’t be able to beat him again, Potter!” The Death Eaters had broken away from their circle to fight them, but the magical light remained, spinning ever faster. It was humming with power, throwing off bands of light rapidly, unable to retain its shape._

_“Don’t go near the light!” Harry yelled at him, disarming one of the Death Eaters._

_“You don’t need to tell me that!” Ron yelled back, shooting a Stunning Spell at the same one. He yelped as a spell narrowly missed him, grazing his ear as it flew past and turned to another Death Eater. The hooded person tried to repeatedly cast curses on Ron, but he answered with his own spells, nullifying them._

_Snarling with frustration, the Death Eater sent several spells at Ron, forcing him to circle around as he side-stepped and dodged them. Stepping back, Ron’s foot landed on a large rock, making his ankle roll and him stumble._

_The Death Eater saw him stagger and cast another spell. Raising his wand, Ron threw up a shaky shield charm, but the Death Eater’s spell was too powerful and his footing was too unsteady. It slammed into Ron’s shield which cracked and threw him back. The magic burning his back was the only warning he had as he was suddenly enveloped in painful, burning light._

_“Ron!” He heard Harry yell faintly from somewhere far away._

_The light engulfed him, seeping into his eyes; his mouth, down his throat; into his ears. His body was being pulled in every direction, his mind cast out of his head; he was everywhere and nowhere. He existed now, in the future, in the past, they all swirled together. He tried yelling, but his body wasn’t his anymore. He had become the light, and then he was the darkness._

 

*            *            *

 

Over his short life, Ron had unfortunately grown far too familiar with St Mungo’s. So, before he even opened his eyes he knew where he was, instantly recognising the smell of sterile cleanliness mixed with an earthy scent of healing herbs assaulting his nose. What was he doing back in St Mungo’s again, though? How did he get here? He could remember… He was fighting Grindelwald's forces in Whitechapel. The British had responded efficiently to the threat and managed to push back Grindelwald’s forces into retreating before major damage could be done. But as they were fleeing, some of them started casting destructive spells at the surrounding buildings to cover their exit. Did one of the spells get him? Did he get hit by falling rubble?

Blinking his eyes open, Ron noticed several people in the room with him; Wendy, Dawlish and … Cornfoot?! Why was the Unspeakable here?

"Ron!" Wendy cried out seeing Ron was awake and rushed over to his bedside. Her face was unusually pale and there were dark bags underneath her eyes. "What happened? Are you okay? Was it Grindelwald?"

"Umm... Yeah? I think?" Ron rubbed his head, wincing. There was a tender lump on his forehead and the skin still felt rough and raw.  "Did I get hit from behind, or something?" 

"We don't know..." She said in a quiet voice. "We only came to the scene after. You were unconscious on the ground outside."

"Well, we _were_ fighting outside," Ron said. He frowned. "What do you mean, you came after? You were there before I was, Wendy.”

Wendy frowned. “…No, I wasn’t, Ron.”

"Yeah, you were! In Whitechapel! Remember, there was that one bloke of Grindelwald’s who kept trying to cast Shrinking Spells on us and you stopped him by sending a swarm of bees after him?”

Wendy’s face froze and her eyes darted over to Dawlish, who was frowning. "Ron..." She said carefully. "You were found outside Wayne's house. You… were the only survivor."

 Gallagher's house? That doesn't make any sense! Why would he be – _Blood exploding on the wall and dripping down; Nott lying dead on the floor, his skin ice cold; the photos of Gallagher with his little girl and wife._

A raw cry left Ron’s throat as his memories flooded back. No, no, no, _no!_ Ron tried gripping his head to stop them, but everything came back. _The Riddle manor painted red; the cold Orphanage and Riddle laughing at him, Gallagher’s face when he found out he killed the wrong boy._

"Ron!" 

"Please, step aside. Mr Weasley, look at me." Ron looked at Cornfoot, tears blurring his sight. "What happened?" Ron tried to speak, but all he could manage was broken gasps. His breath was coming out too quickly, he couldn't control it.

 "Cornfoot, this _isn't_ the time!" Wendy snapped angrily. "You should come back when he's not so distraught."

 "No, I need to know what happened, _now."_  Cornfoot replied back forcefully. "Weasley knows why."

 "He... He killed him." Ron gasped. "Gallagher killed him."

 "Why?"

 "... Because he thought he was ... You-Know-Who. A-After his family died, he wanted to stop him. To stop future wars before they happened." 

 Cornfoot leant back, his expression was complicated. Anger, mixed with contempt, but overall there was a gritty resolve. The man’s upper lip trembled as he drew in a deep breath. " _You_ killed them. You know this, don't you? I warned you. I _told_ you not to interfere and now two innocent people have died from your selfishness. You have corrupted the life paths, not only of Gallagher and Nott, but their descendants. You have destroyed the natural flow of their timeline and now everyone else will suffer for it.”  

 "How _dare_ you!" Wendy screeched. "Get _out_ , Cornfoot!"

 "I order you to arrest him!" Cornfoot said ignoring Wendy’s words, pointing a finger at Ron. "Ron Weasley has travelled through time, and his direct actions has led to the deaths of Wayne Gallagher and Gordon Nott, as well as the possible un-birthings of future children. Under the Laws of Time Magic and the Degree for Irresponsible Time Travel, you _must_ arrest him. He will immediately go to Azkaban, where he will be held until he comes under trial of the Wizengamot."

 Wendy and Dawlish stared between Ron and Cornfoot, eyes wide. Slowly the Aurors withdrew their wands, their movement’s hesitant. "Arrest him!" Cornfoot screamed at them, "He is a dangerous criminal! A murderer!"

 "… Sorry, Weasley.” Dawlish said, pointing his wand at Ron.

No, _no._  It can't come down to this. He can't go to Azkaban, not now. Not while Riddle was still alive. He had to fix this. He had to make this better, again. Ron reached for his wand and - yes! It was still in his robes! Drawing it out, Ron pointed it straight at Dawlish. " _Stupefy!_ " 

Dawlish reeled back, hitting the floor hard. Cornfoot yelled out in shock and Wendy shot a Stunning Spell at Ron, who rolled back off the bed and crouched behind it. He needed to get out of here _now._

Casting a blind spell at Wendy over the bed, Ron took a moment to think through his next move. _“Avis!”_ A flock of tiny birds erupted from the end of Ron’s wand, flying in the general direction he thought Wendy was in. Hearing her startled cry, he jumped to his feet and raced to the door, hearing screeches of “Stop him! Stop him!”

Glancing back, he saw Wendy had battered the birds away and was taking after him. _“Colloshoo!”_ Ron waved his wand at her feet, sticking them to the ground.

Throwing the door open, Ron raced into the hallway. “Stop him! Murderer!” echoed behind him, making the Healers and Medi-Wizards turn to look at him in alarm. Some of the braver ones stepped up to stop him, but Ron was far more skilled in combat than they were and overcome them quickly.

Spotting a bathroom, Ron rushed into it, locking the door behind him. Panting, he closed his eyes and concentrated. He needed to hide, somewhere they won't find him. Merlin, this was all his fault, what had he done? If he had just kept to himself, Gallagher and Nott would be alive. But thought he could make the world better; he had been so infatuated with the idea of a world without He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, two innocent people had died and now inadvertently left England in a war against Grindelwald, with no Head Auror! 

A loud bang came from the door behind him, startling him from his thoughts. Ron needed to leave _now._ Thinking of somewhere safe, that no-one could find him, Ron Apparated.

 

A forest of trees towered over Ron, its canopy blocking out most of the summer sun, making him shiver. The soft sound of water lapping against the shore caught Ron's attention. He was in the forest where he destroyed the locket with Gryffindor's Sword. That was the lake he pulled Harry out from, being strangled by the gold chain. He saw what he thought was Harry’s Patronus through the trees and followed it, only to find his best friend drowning in the water. It seemed like a lifetime ago now. He could still remember the regret he felt when he left them; how lost he was on his own, unable to find his way back. Then the relief when he heard her voice.

Sinking onto the ground, Ron breathed shakily. He had killed Gallagher and the boy Nott. The boy should have survived, he should have gotten married and had kids and at least one grandkid, Theodore, who went to Hogwarts with Ron. And now, none of them would ever exist. And without Gallagher’s leadership, the Auror division would be in shambles.

And what of Cornfoot? The Unspeakable was calling for his imprisonment. How far would he be allowed to push it? Would they take the Aurors away from the war with Grindelwald to hunt him instead? Would his name be slandered publicly, so everyone in the wizarding society would be able to recognise him as… what? A murder? A traitor? Or would they openly say he’s a Time Traveller and needs to be caught before he could do more damage to their timeline?  

Everything around him had blown up into chaos he had lost all control over. What should he do? What is he _actually_ supposed to do, now? Should he return to the Ministry and turn himself in? Accept his fate in Azkaban for the remainder of his life?

Ron thought about Riddle. It was all because of Tom Riddle. Everything he had done was to stop him from becoming You-Know-Who, but Riddle had outsmarted him and he had failed. Riddle killed his father and grandparents, and he was still going to create Horcruxes. The only thing Ron achieved was prolonging it and that was at a huge cost he didn’t even pay himself. 

No, he can’t let it end here. He vowed he would stop Riddle and he would do. This is nothing compared to what he’s been through. He had been hunted by Snatchers, snuck into the Ministry of Magic, Gringotts and Hogwarts, destroyed four Horcruxes, all under You-Know-Who’s flat nose! They had managed to stop him then, then Ron could handle Tom Riddle now!

The only difference was Ron had his two best friends with him then. And now he was alone.

 

*            *            *

 

Poking the fire to life, Ron stared absently into the flames as they lazily licked the air around them. For almost a week he had stayed in this forest, trying, failing and trying again to think of a feasible plan. Without Hermione’s bottomless bag, it hadn’t been very pleasant, despite Ron transfiguring himself a tent and bed.

Tiredly, Ron shut his eyes, listening to the fire crackle. Every plan he thought of required something he didn’t have access to. He had no safe place in the Wizarding World, no gold and no allies. All he had was his wand, which even that he didn’t even know if he could rely upon, if he had another confrontation with Riddle.

If Harry and Hermione were here, they could come up with a plan together. Harry would have some special information he had heard from someone, somewhere. Hermione would notice something, some minor detail Ron and Harry would overlook, and would know _exactly_ what it meant or how to find out and then it wouldn’t seem so helpless anymore.

 “Ron? Ron Weasley?” Ron jumped, looking around wildly. Who was – It sounded like Wendy! Where was she? Ron nearly slapped himself. The mirror! He still had it! Fumbling, he pulled it out from his robe pocket. He should just smash it, the Aurors could track him with it. If they saw his location, they would Apparate and his protection charms would be compromised. “Ron, please answer! The Ministry is being attacked!”

 Ron froze. The _Ministry?!_ Slowly, he opened up the mirror and saw Wendy’s panicked face. “Ron!” She gasped seeing him.

 “What’s going on?” He asked wearily.

 “Grindelwald has attacked the Ministry! He’s here in person! Ron, we _need_ your help!”

 Ron’s hands were shaking. “I-Is this a trap? You get me to the Ministry to arrest me?”

 “Ron, I swear on my 1867 bottle of Firewhisky, this is not a trap! Please! He’s brought most of his army here and there aren’t enough Aurors to hold them off! He’s going to take over the Ministry, Ron!”

 Swallowing, Ron nodded. “I’ll be there.”

 “Thank you, Ron! I’ll tell the other Aurors not to arrest you.” Wendy vanished from the mirror. Well, _that_ was comforting.

 

 Arriving inside the Atrium, Ron quickly ducked a rogue spell that flew past his head and exploded on the wall behind him. Swearing, he pulled out his wand and dove behind the golden water fountain. It was absolute chaos; Ministry members and Aurors were fighting Grindelwald’s men; spells were being thrown around and ricocheting off the surfaces, lighting the area up like someone had set off a box of fireworks. Voices were rising, a mix of incantations, swear words and taunts.

 “Come get some, ya fookin’-”

 “Me Grandma can fight better than that! _Stupefy!”_

 A man ran past Ron with the Deathly Hallows badge on his chest and Ron fired a jinx at him, making him trip on his face.

 “Weasley?!” Ron turned and saw McLaggen, a wide gash on his forehead and blood flowing down his face. He was staring at Ron, wand half-cocked, not sure if he should attack him or not.

 “Hopkins asked me to come!” Ron yelled at him over the noise. “She told me of the attack.”

 “And you’re definitely not a traitor?”

 “I wouldn’t bloody well be attacking _them_ if I was, would I?!”

 McLaggen quickly cast a hex at a nearby intruder and ducked down behind the fountain next to Ron. “… Fair enough. Look, head up to the Minister’s office and try find him; I think he’s still there! Get him out of here safely!”

 Ron nodded. “I’m on it!” Firing more spells over his head to clear a path, Ron raced to the lifts. As he got closer, he saw one of Grindelwald’s men already inside one, pressing the buttons rapidly.

“Oh no, you don’t!” Ron yelled as he pushed himself into a faster run. The doors started closing, but Ron was nearly there. His shoulder caught on the side of the door as he pushed in, causing him to stumble. Luckily, the other wizard didn’t expect Ron to actually make it, giving Ron enough time to stun him. 

Carefully stepping over the fallen body, Ron turned to the panel of buttons, swearing when he saw they were going down to the Department of Mysteries. Ron pressed the first button repeatedly, but it didn’t stop the lifts decent. Groaning, Ron stepped back, waiting for the door to open, so he could _close_ it again. But when the doors slid open, the echoing sound of battle rose up from down the staircase leading to the old Courtrooms made Ron hesitate. Most of the people working in the Ministry didn’t know how to fight, blimey, in _his_ time they had to wear hats with a Shield Charm woven in them because they couldn’t cast the spell themselves! What if the people down there were in trouble? Swearing again, Ron ran out of the elevator and turned down the stone staircase.

As he hurried down the stairs, the sounds of the fighting got louder. Barrelling into the rough stone corridor lined with wooden doors, he looked around wildly.  “Which one is it?” Ron asked out loud, before the door ahead blasted open and someone was thrown out, slamming against the opposite wall and fell to the ground. “Bloody hell!”

Cautiously peering in through the smoking door, Ron was momentarily shocked as he saw Tom Riddle and Abraxas Malfoy fighting off two of Grindelwald’s men. Behind Riddle and Malfoy were a group of cowering Ministry officials. Malfoy looked a bit rough, his hair was tousled, and his bottom lip was split open and bleeding down onto his robe. Riddle looked as perfect as ever, his face shining with delight as he waved and flicked his wand with smooth, confident motions.

Riddle’s spell hit one of Grindelwald’s supporters in the chest and he crumbled to the ground. Panicking, the other raised his wand directly at Riddle. “ _Avada_ -”

“ _Sectumsempra_!” Ron yelled, bringing his wand down in a slashing motion. The man cried out in agony as his arm was cleanly cut off, hitting the ground with a thud. “ _Petrifcus_ _Totalus_!” The man’s body snapped rigid and fell backwards heavily. Riddle and Malfoy looked at Ron with equal expressions of surprise on their faces.

“What spell was _that?”_ Riddle asked, his eyes wide.

“What the bloody hell are you doing here?!” Ron yelled at him.

“Ahhhh! It’s Ron Weasley! He’s going to kill us!” One of the Ministry workers behind them started wailing, pure terror on their face.

“No, I’m not! I’m here to help!” Ron yelled at her, his patience thinning dramatically. Trying to calm himself, he turned back to the two Hogwarts students. “Look, I’m going to find the Minister, he needs to get out of here before Grindelwald finds him. You need to get out too!”

“I’m coming with you.” Riddle said instantly, stepping forwards.

“I’ll come too, I know the Minister perso–”

“No, you should _stay here,_ Malfoy.” Riddle snapped. “And help the Ministry members.”

Malfoy gaped at Riddle, taken back by the hostility. “Oh-kay…” He turned to Ron and quickly the slimy, drawling Malfoy came back. “It’s _wonderful_ to see you, Mr Weasley,” His eyes raked over Ron’s body in a way that made him _very_ uncomfortable. “I was hoping I’d meet you again, after last time.”

“Wh-what?” Ron stuttered out.

“Let’s go rescue the Minister, Mr Weasley.” Riddle said, leaving the Courtroom.

Glancing one last time at the smirking Pureblood, Ron jogged after Riddle. Catching up to him in the hallway, Ron gripped his elbow, forcing Riddle to jerk back to Ron, his eyes glaring into his own. “What are you _doing here?”_ He asked again.

“I was staying with the Malfoys, when Mr Malfoy got news of the attack. He came here to help get Ministry employees out, and Abraxas and I felt like it was in our best interests to help too.”

“ _Help?!_ Why would you want to help?! Wait, why were you with the _Malfoys?”_

Riddle gave him a withering look. “After _someone_ decided to attack me in the orphanage, I figured I would be a lot safer staying with a wizarding family for the rest of the Summer Break. It also gave me access as to what was going on in the Wizarding World.” Riddle tilted his head to the side. “Are you really on Grindelwald’s side?”

“Yes, I just stopped my mate in there killing you because I wanted to do it first.” Ron said, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“You know, sarcasm only works when you don’t actually mean it.” Riddle stepped closer to Ron, his robes brushing against Ron’s. “Did you kill them? The Auror and Nott?”

 Ron’s stomach twisted. “No. It… It was a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

 “So which was it? You didn’t do it, or was it a mistake?”

“L-look, the Ministry is being attacked right now! We can talk later.”

“Was it some new _threat_ of yours?” Riddle pushed, ignoring him. “To try and prove to me that you aren’t the incompetent idiot I think you are?”

“What?! No! Not everything is about you, you know!”

“I don’t know…” Riddle had leant in even closer, his breath mingling with Ron’s. “Everything you’ve done until now has been because of me.”

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times and couldn’t stop himself from averting his eyes away from Riddle’s gaze. “Let’s… have this conversation later. We need to save the Minister first.”

“Fine.” Riddle backed away from Ron. “I _will_ get answers out of you,” He promised. “Try not to die before then.”

Ron swore, frustrated. “I _am_ an Auror, you know!” He yelled at Riddle’s retreating back.

 

Catching up to Riddle in the lift, Ron pressed the button for the first floor and the metal grille closed behind them. The silence in the small space was deafening and Ron shifted uncomfortably, far too aware of the person next to him. “....What did Malfoy mean?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Riddle glanced over at him, unimpressed. “I’m sure if you think hard enough you can figure it out.”

Frowning at Riddle’s words, there was a sudden deafening boom above and the lift rocked from a considerable force. Losing his balance, Ron fell over on Riddle, who fell to the ground underneath him. A second boom and the lift swayed, before starting to plummet back to the ground. The pair screamed in panic as they fell, the lift tilting to the side, making them roll in frightening vertigo.

“We need to stop the lift falling!” Riddle shouted, his voice unnaturally high.

“Well no shit, genius!” Ron yelled back at him. “Cast a Levitation spell!”

“That’s not going to work!”

“Shut up and do it! _Wingardium Leviosa!”_

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!”_

The lift gave a shuddering lurch, but continued to plummet.

“I told you it wasn’t going to work!”

Ron swore. “Hang on, I’m Apparating us out of here!” Ron gripped Riddle’s arm firmly, shutting his eyes. Thinking of the very stable, very solid grounded-Atrium and the golden statues standing in the centre of the fountain, he teleported them out of the lift.

Instantly, he heard shouting and the crackling sound of spells clashing. Opening his eyes, Ron’s vision spun and he swayed on the spot. Next to him, Riddle tried to step forward, only to stumble sideways into Ron. Ron managed to awkwardly catch him as he sank to the ground. Half holding Riddle who was now throwing up his guts on the floor, Ron looked around. The battle had gotten even crazier since he left. There was debris everywhere, blackened marks and holes in the walls from where stray spells had hit. He recognised several Aurors and Officers still fighting, but it seemed many others had joined in to defend the Ministry.

“Hey! There’s Dumbledore!” Ron cried out, recognising the man. He wasn’t old though! His hair and beard were an auburn colour and he was wearing a set of flamboyant blue and gold robes. He was fighting three people at once, his face set into a stern scowl as he stared his opponents down over his glasses.

“Huh?” Riddle said looking up, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Oh. Yes, wonderful.”

“We’re going to be fine, if Dumbledore’s here!” Ron said, relieved. Dumbledore was the one to defeat Grindelwald and becoming the true master of the Elder Wand! If he’s here, then they could have their duel and the war would end! Something was going right, for once! Now, all Ron had to do was get the Minister out.

“Let’s go to the first level.” Ron said, hauling Riddle up onto his feet. The boy was deathly pale and his face had almost a green tinge to it.

“Not using the lifts, I hope.”

“There are anti-Apparation charms on the first level, it’s the only way for us to get there.”

Riddle groaned, but followed Ron to the lifts. This time it didn’t crash and when they reached the first level, the doors opened with ease. Unlike the other floors, this one was silent. It should have been a good thing, but the hairs on Ron’s neck stood up and goosebumps ran up his skin. Quietly stepping out of the lift, Ron raised his wand, looking out for any movements. Riddle must have the same feeling as him, for he didn’t say anything, following Ron with his own wand out.

Reaching an open door, Ron peered in and gasped. There were dead bodies lying on the ground. No physical signs of injury, all wearing matching expressions of horror. The Killing Curse. Room after room, there were more bodies, until finally they reached the closed office of the Minister for Magic. Ron turned to look at Riddle who, still pale, had a determined look on his face.

Pointing his wand at the handle, Ron muttered quietly, “ _Alohamora.”_ The door creaked opened loudly, revealing the dead body of Minister Spencer-Moon was on the floor and a man sitting at his desk, feet resting up on the wooden surface. The man’s face was lightly wrinkled and his blonde curly hair streaked with light grey hairs fell down around the side of his face. His eyes flittered between the two of them, narrowing.

“And who are you?” He asked. His voice was commanding, sending shivers down Ron’s spine.

“Are you… Grindelwald?” Ron asked, keeping his wand trained on the man at the desk.

The man’s eyes focused on Ron. “I am. And as you can see,” Grindelwald gestured to the body of the Minister on the floor. “I’ve already won. So, I suggest you think through your next actions very carefully. Drop your wands now and I promise you a pleasant life in this new age I am now going to begin creating.”

 “I think my wand is better in my hand, thanks mate.” Ron said, his voice no-where near as forceful as he wanted it to be.

 Grindelwald raised a slow eyebrow. “Is that so? Tell me then, why are you here? Are you so loyal to your Ministry you will throw your life away, meaninglessly? Or do you believe in the misguided nonsense that is shoved down your throats that Muggles are somehow _superior_ to us?”

Ron felt Riddle shift beside him. “Or is it,” Grindelwald continued. “You seek something more elementary as _fame?_ Did you come in here thinking you could actually best me in a duel? That you would win and indulge in being famous for as long as you’re in the minds of the masses?”

“You don’t believe in this war of yours.” Ron said, wishing his voice was louder. “You’re just using it to incite violence. So you can rule over everyone, whether it’s Wizards or Muggles. It’s just the tool you’re using to make yourself powerful.”

BANG! Ron flinched at the loud sound as Grindelwald slapped his hand against the wooden desk, his face suddenly furious. His feet were back on the ground and he was hunched over the desk, his palms flat on the surface. “Muggle’s are filth.” He spat out. “From the very beginning we have hidden from them. Pretending like we don’t exist, like _prey._ But we are not. _We_ are the predators. We are superior to them in every way, so why should we contin toue conform to _them?”_

“They’re people too,” Ron's voice sounded faint in his own ears as his heart raced in his chest. “Just because we can do magic doesn’t make us better than them.”

“You can join them, then.” Grindelwald snarled. “Now go get Albus for me. I’ve been waiting for him for far too long and my patience is thin. Or I can just kill you now, if you’d prefer.”

Ron gripped his wand tighter. “The only person who is going to die here today is you.” 

Ron flinched again as Grindelwald let out a loud, booming laugh. “Well, aren’t _those_ fighting words! Tell me, what is your name? Foolish, brave, Muggle-lover?”

Under the fear coursing through his veins, Ron felt a spark of anger. “Ron Weasley.” He gritted out.

“ _Ron Weasley,”_ Grindelwald mulled over the name. “I am familiar with that name and the controversy that seems to have sprung up around it. _Rumour_ has it, you’ve defected to _my_ side, now we both know that isn’t the truth. So, what is it? And why do you still fight for the side who want your arrest?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” Ron spat.

“And what of you, boy?” Grindelwald suddenly asked Riddle, turning to him for the first time. “Why are you here?”

Riddle stepped forward, looking at Grindelwald appraisingly. “I need answers out of him.” Nodding towards Ron. “I can’t let him die before then.”

“Well, how about I help you with that, boy?” Grindelwald offered, rubbing his hands together, sitting up properly. “Defeat Weasley here in a duel and I will help you extract every last memory from his mind. He will be yours, to do with as you wish.”

Ron felt his heart skip a beat. Surely Riddle wouldn’t… Riddle turned at looked at him, his dark eyes boring into Ron’s as he considered Grindelwald’s proposal. Ron couldn’t say how much time had passed; his heart was racing and mind spinning full implications of what might happen if Riddle says yes. Lord Voldemort, apprentice to the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. With knowledge of his future; his own demise, the Horcruxes, Harry, of the Prophesy…  

The corner of Riddle’s mouth quirked up, in a soft, reassuring smile. He turned to Grindelwald. “As tempting as your offer is, Mr Grindelwald, I’m afraid I must pass on it.”

 Grindelwald sighed. “No matter. You Hogwarts bunch tend to be far too stubborn for your own good. So, shall we get down to business?”

 

A stabbing pain shot through Ron’s stomach, making him hunch over. He had only a moment to recover before a second wave of agony ripped through him again, making him cry out and clutch his stomach. The taste of salty iron filled Ron’s mouth and he spat, a splatter of blood hit the ground underneath him.

_Blood curse._ He realised as he doubled over in pain. _But when did he...?!_ Ron didn’t even see Grindelwald draw his wand! _Internal bleeding, probably organs… Know the counter-spell –_ “Ahhhbleh–!” Ron’s lungs were filling with blood, making him cough up even more blood _. No, not like this._ Thinking of the counter-spell firmly in his head, Ron waved his wand over his body and the pain lessened slightly.

Casting the spell again, Ron looked up and saw that Riddle and Grindelwald were locked in a duel, magical light flying between them. “You’re not a bad fighter, boy!” Grindelwald said. “You have knowledge and power behind your spells. Shall we step it up a notch?”

Alarmed, Ron raised his wand. _“Impedime –”_ He was knocked back off his feet before he could even finish the incantation.

_“Mutatio Skullus!”_ Winded, Ron sat up in time to see Riddle cast another spell at Grindelwald but with lightning speed the fallen body of Minister Spencer-Moon shot between them, absorbing the spell. Hanging in the air like a broken doll on strings, Ron watched as the dead Minister’s face swelled up grotesquely, the lifeless veins staining against the grey skin as bulbous forms grew rapidly.

Disgusted, Ron pointed his wand at the body. _“Finite Incantatum.”_ The Minister’s body fell to the ground and his face slowly started reverting back to normal.  

Rising to his feet again, Ron barely missed another spell Riddle shot at Grindelwald, feeling only the heat as it rushed past him. Grindelwald wasn’t as slow, for a simple flick of his wrist and Riddle’s spell veered off and hit the wall behind him with a loud boom and purple bolts of electricity spread across the surface.

Ron heard Riddle make a sound of frustration to his side, but his attention was taken up by Grindelwald. The man’s posture hadn’t changed; He was standing so casually, with loose shoulders and one hip dropped slightly like he walked with a troublemaker's swagger, but his wrist rolled slightly and it was the only warning Ron needed to throw up a shield. Not a moment later, a powerful spell battered against it with frightening force, making Ron shudder. _This_ was the true power of the Elder Wand, in the hands of a wizard it accepted, someone who has experienced death over and over.

“Drop the shield!” Riddle yelled at Ron, preparing himself to attack. You can’t hesitate in battle and definitely not against a powerful Dark Wizard. Ron instantly lowered his shield and Riddle cast a spell. _“Confringo!”_

Ron barely erected another shield before being thrown backwards from the explosion. Coughing, he sat up in a circle of debris and plaster dust all around him. “What the bloody hell was that?!” He yelled at Riddle, who was sitting up next to him looking dazed.

“If it worked, you can thank me later.” Riddle said, struggling to his feet. Grindelwald stepped out from the exploded room, his shape blurred from the dust swirling in the air.

“Oh yeah, that worked really well!”

“Shut up! _You_ do something then!”

But Ron didn’t have the chance to initiate as Grindelwald cast a fire spell at them. Spotting an empty frame on the wall; the occupants probably long fled once the battle for the Ministry started, Ron hastily transfigured it into a rough shield and threw it between himself and the flames. Ron and Riddle backed away wearily as the flames lapped around the quickly heating shield, the tendrils reaching out for them like hands.

Actually, they were _exactly_ like hands. One burning hand shot out towards them, each individual finger tipped with flame. The outstretched hand reached straight for Riddle, who for whatever reason unknown to Ron in that moment didn’t move. Not thinking, Ron threw his arm out over Riddle, pushing the boy back. The hand wrapped around Ron’s arm instantly, burning straight through his robes to his skin.

Ron screamed in pain and with alarming strength, the hand started dragging him back to the searing shield and the grasping flames behind it. Ron tried pulled his arm back, but the flame just slipped down his arm, leaving a patch of black and blistering flesh. Overwhelmed by the burning pain, Ron wasn’t prepared for being suddenly douched by a wave of water, instantly drenching him.

Hot, white steam filled the room with a loud hiss and the flames retreated. Ron cradled his burnt arm, trying to see Grindelwald through the steam. Water sloshed around their ankles and Ron’s shield floated a small distance away, dipping in and out of the small waves.

The pain in Ron’s arm throbbed and Ron stumbled back. He needed this healed right now. “Cover me.” He hissed at Riddle, who looked uncharacteristically shaken. The boy gave a quick nod and took a small step forward, positioning himself between Ron and Grindelwald. With a wave of his wand, the steam vanished and the rest of the corridor came into view. The water had stretched out and filled the room, and still standing near the destroyed room, was Grindelwald, watching them closely.

Muttering a simple healing charm under his breath, Ron kept glancing at Riddle and Grindelwald. Neither of them moved, seemingly happy just to stare at one another in silence, until Riddle slowly pointed his wand at the water before him. “ _Serpensortia.”_ Several snakes shot out from Riddles wand and landed in the water with a splash. The serpents bobbed in the water, lazily floating on the surface.

Grindelwald sighed. “And finally you show your age. It’s a shame, you know. You have a lot of promise. My offer still stands, boy. If you defeat Weasley instead, I will help you. I will teach you such an array of magic that you can’t even imagine! Tings they wouldn't dare teach you at Hogwarts! You would never have to resort to such _childish_ spells again.”

“Childish? I suppose it is.” Riddle said. His voice was light, but Ron caught the tense undertone to it. “That doesn’t make it any less effective though, I thought you would understand that.”

“What?” Grindelwald frowned, confused at his words, but Riddle began hissing in Parseltongue and the snakes who were trying to snap at each others tails froze, their heads turned to Riddle, listening.

Ron assumed Riddle was commanding the snakes to attack Grindelwald, for the moment he stopped talking… or hissing, they lunged out of the water with unnatural agility, flying straight towards the man. Grindelwald flicked his wand and two of the snakes smacked uselessly against the wall, but the last one managed to land on the man’s shield, its open mouth gnawing against it. 

The image of the small snake latched onto the shield, made Ron laugh wildly and he decided to help it out. _“Engorgio!”_ The snake tripled in size, its length wrapping around Grindelwald’s shield, but its poisoned teeth still couldn’t penetrate the magical shield. Flames erupted around Grindelwald and the giant snake burnt, its blackened body falling to the ground with a splash.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” He yelled, pointing at Grindelwald. But the man was quicker and battered the spell away.

“ _Sectumsempra!”_ Riddle yelled next to Ron. The white light cut through the air, straight through Grindelwald’s shield. The man cried out as it hit him, stumbling. He gripped his face, blood leaking through his fingers.

“ _Petrificus Totalus!”_ Ron cast and Grindelwald’s body snapped rigid, his bloody hand dropping to his sides revealing a deep gash that ran from his forehead, across one eye and down his cheek.

“ _Avada Kedavra!”_

“No!” Ron yelled out, but Riddle had already cast the Curse and the green light flew towards Grindelwald, hitting him square in the chest. His body still under the Binding Curse, Grindelwald fell back heavily, splashing into the water. Riddle stepped slowly toward the fallen body, the sloshing sound deafening in the battle-ravaged hallway. Ron watched him bend over the body, picking up the fallen wand.

 “I-I’ll take that.” Ron tried saying, stumbling forwards as his feet refused to move.

Riddle looked up at him, an ecstatic grin on his face. “Give you the Elder Wand? Oh, I don’t think so, Weasley. Besides, _I_ killed Grindelwald, _I_ am its rightful owner.”

Ron gaped for breath. “E-Elder Wand?”

“Yes, the Elder Wand.” Riddle stood up, twirling the pale wand between his fingers, the corners of his lips still pulled up triumphantly. “ _You_ helped me discover its existence, did you know? When you fought the spy in the Forest, you said he wore the symbol of the ‘Deathly Hallows’. I admit, it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out _what_ they were. Being raised by Muggles, I missed out on all the wizard fairy tales. But once I learnt the Tale of the Three Brothers, I wondered to myself, w _hy would Grindelwald use a symbol from a children’s story?_ The only conclusion is, _they were real.”_

Riddle started pacing, the wand still rolling between his fingers. “The Elder Wand was the easy one to find. You can trace it back throughout history, if you know what to look for. Powerful tyrants and radical duellists. It’s a bloody history, many falling to even more powerful wizards.” Riddle glanced at Grindelwald’s body. Ron felt himself shaking, all the blood had been drained out from his face and his body refused to move. “I wasn’t able to find much about the Resurrection Stone and Cloak of Invisibility and there’s nothing in recent history I can go off.” Riddle continued. “But I am going to take an educated guess and say that _you_ know where they are, though?”

“No…” Ron whispered.

Riddle narrowed his eyes. “You have a very good idea, I bet. More than anyone else. I want you to tell me, Mr Weasley. _Ron.”_ Riddle pointed the Elder Wand straight at Ron’s chest.

The shuddering sound of the lift interrupted and Riddle lowered the wand dejectedly. Still shaking, Ron turned and saw Dumbledore followed by several Aurors hurry down the hallway. As soon as Dumbledore saw Grindelwald’s body lying on the floor, pain and sorrow crossed his face. “Oh _Gellert,”_ He whispered so low, Ron almost missed it.

Dumbledore, his eyes shining bright, turned to Ron. “Did you defeat him?”

Ron shakily nodded his head, but then reconsidered. “W-We both did.” He said quietly.

Dumbledore looked up to Riddle, surprise and confusion on his face. “Tom? You stopped Grindelwald?”

“I did, Professor Dumbledore.” Riddle said, his mask firmly back in place, Elder Wand nowhere to be seen. “Unfortunately, we were too late though. The Minister…”

One of the Aurors rushed over to Grindelwald’s body, bending over, they checked his body. “He’s dead.”

Dumbledore shut his eyes, nodding.

“Ron…” Ron turned, he saw Wendy walking towards him, she looked tired and her robes were dusty and ripped, but otherwise fine. “Look, you should get out. While you can.”

Ron shook his head. “I’ve done enough damage, I think. It’s time I faced the consequences of my actions.”

“Ron, there’s only Azkaban for you.” Wendy pleaded with him. “You don’t deserve that.”

Ron laughed hollowly. “I don’t think Azkaban is enough, for what I’ve done. I’m sorry you have to live through my mistakes, whatever they’re going to be.”

Tears shining in her eyes, Wendy nodded shakily. “If you are sure. Dawlish, Campbell. Arrest Mr Weasley. May the Dementors be kind to you, Ron.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go...!


	10. Reconstructing Flotsam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhh, this is it! And of course the final chapter was the most difficult to write! I’ve probably scrapped about 10k worth of content that I didn’t like and had to completely re-write, or it just didn’t fit in well with the rest of it.  
> For chapter warnings, we have some Dub-Con, which I think I need to add to the tags, because the consent was reaaaaally questionable!

 

The waves crashed against the lone building out at sea, beating against the stone like they were trying to topple over the cursed fortress, sinking it to the bottom of the sea where it couldn’t inflict any more pain and terror upon its inhabitants. But Azkaban stood firm, while the lives of those trapped inside withered away, drained by the cursed creatures standing guard.

Ron could hear Hermione screaming. Her piercing scream as he was trapped below the Malfoy manor, helpless. Today was a bad day.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been here. Years. Every Christmas the Dementors brought him fruit pudding with a single poisoned berry on the top. Every year Ron ate the berry, but rather than killing him, it just made him sick. For two days after, he would lay shaking on the cold floor, covering in his own vomit, while the poison coursed through his body. Ron tried to count. How many berries had he eaten? Ten? More?

He shivered suddenly as the cold wind ripped through the window and wrapped his bony arms around himself. He heard Percy screaming now. He could see him clinging to Fred’s body after he fell. A wave of misery washed over him again. One of the Dementor guards was getting close. He could hear the rusted metal lock scrape as the door was opened, the hinges creaking loudly. Ron huddled up against the wall, wanting to stay as far away from the creature as possible.

“You may leave us,” A quiet voice ordered and the door creakily shut again.

Ron frowned. He _knew_ that voice… Wearily looking up, he saw the man standing at the door. He was older, now. His cheeks and jawline were more defined, having lost the roundness of childhood, and his black hair was smoothed back, not a single strand out of place. His dark robes must have been bespoke; they fit him across his narrow torso and the length of the hems sat just where they should. Power radiated from him, making Ron shiver. He felt the shameless eyes roam over him.

“It’s almost sad, seeing you in this state.” Riddle said. “I never wanted this for you. I know I said I was going to kill you, but I didn’t mean it. You kept pushing me, Ron Weasley. Every time I saw you, you unearthed the part inside me I tried to hide from others. Your hostility towards that side of me made me defensive, I suppose.” Riddle walked towards Ron and kneeled down in front of him. Ron made sure his head was turned away, so the man couldn’t see him. Riddle reached out, digging his fingers into Ron’s long hair, yanking his head up. Ron cried out in pain, but he didn’t have the strength to struggle.

“I’m a teacher at Hogwarts.” Riddle said, looking at Ron’s face, taking in the gaunt cheeks and sunken eyes. “Defence Against the Dark Arts. I began teaching the year after I graduated. Who better suited to the position than the person who defeated Grindelwald? There have been so many students coming through the school, applicants from all over Europe, wanting to learn under me. Many of my students have graduated and gone on to work in the Ministry. I keep getting requests from them to be the new Minister for Magic when Tuft’s turn expires this summer, but I don’t think I will.” Riddle smirked. “I already have control of the Ministry, why do I need to put a name to it? No, I’m much better off at Hogwarts. Shaping the minds of every magical child who passes through the castle doors.” 

“Wh-What…” Ron struggled to speak, his voice hoarse from lack of use. Riddle patiently waited. “What are you… doing here?”

“I’m here to show you what you created. I know you’re a Time Traveller. That you came from the future and decided that killing _me_ was the best thing to do. I’m showing you what your failure has led to.” Ron started shaking again, trying to turn away from Riddle, but the man reached out grabbing Ron’s head with both hands firmly, making him look at him. “I want you to show me, what your future was like. What you tried so hard to prevent.”

Ron couldn’t stop the sob erupting from him, a deep, painful sob that wracked his whole body. Disgusted, Riddle let go of him. “Your mind is weak, Weasley. Tell me, or I will see for myself.” Ron shook his head, still sobbing.

Riddle sighed. He stood up and withdrew his wand. The Elder Wand. “Fine then. _Legilimens!”_

_He was standing in the courtyard, watching Hagrid carry Harry’s body. The Boy Who Lived was dead, to destroy the part of You-Know-Who inside him, so the Dark Lord could finally be killed. In the Chamber of Secrets, dark shadows cast across the walls, moving with the wand light. Pulling out the basilisk fang from the giant snake’s skull, its skin still hanging off the bones. Harry and Hermione kissing, shining with ethereal beauty. Cutting through them, hitting the locket, with Gryffindor’s sword, still shaking with anger and jealousy. Hearing the screams of Diggory’s parents cutting across the Quidditch pitch, seeing their dead son. Scabbers turning into a man. His pet who he protected and defended from that blasted cat all year was the traitor who betrayed Harry’s parents. ‘Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever’ written in blood on the wall. Ginny, his sister, who he teased and he didn’t listen to, why didn’t he listen to her?!_

The memories faded, leaving Ron a sobbing mess on the ground. Above him, he heard Riddle pace around the small cell. “You _knew,_ you actually _did_ know about the Horcruxes…” Suddenly Riddle started laughing, high pitched. He stepped towards Ron and pulled his head up again by a fistful of hair. A huge grin was stretched over his face. “Ron Weasley, you are the greatest thing to happen in my life! By trying to stop Lord Voldemort, you made me stronger! Soon I will have an _entire generation_ of witches and wizards willing to serve me, unquestioned! I will be able to shut down the Ministry and take sole control of Britain. The rest of the Wizarding World would bend to me after that and there will be _no-one_ to stop me!” Riddle let go of Ron, standing up properly. “Now, show me _everything,_ Weasley. _Legilimens!”_

 

Ron lay curled up in the corner of the cell. A plate of untouched food lay in the centre of the room, where the Dementor left it earlier. He had begged and _begged_ the Dementors to Kiss him, just put him out of his misery, but they refused. Now, he was trying to starve himself. If they won’t end him, he’d have to do it himself.

The door creaked open loudly and Riddle stepped into the cell followed by a balding, blonde haired man. “I have a wonderful gift for you, Weasley!” Riddle announced loudly. Ron pulled his arms tighter over his body, trying to drown out his voice. “I _was_ going to let you out of here, to let you properly see the world you had created. I wanted you to witness first hand my reign over the Wizarding World, with the knowledge that it was all because of _you.”_ Riddle crouched by Ron, forcing him to look at him. His handsome face smiled, a warm, comforting smile that made Ron shake. “But that would be too cruel of me. You are not from this time; I shouldn’t make you live here any longer. So, I’m going to send you back, where you can live with your parents and your Mudblood girlfriend. You’ll be able to see then, _exactly_ what changes you have made to history.” Riddle tilted his head to the side, considering. “Well, the Mudblood might not be there, she might be long dead by the time you get back.” Ron whimpered. “Oh, don’t be like that Weasley. _I’ll_ be there. Let me know when you arrive, I’m sure I’ll be dying to see you again.” Ron jerked as Riddle placed a rough kiss on his forehead. Riddle stood up, stepping away from Ron. “He’s all yours, Mr Alton.”

The balding man cleared his throat. “… Ron?”

Ron looked up wearily at the other man. “E-Ernie?” It _was_ Alton. Since Ron had been in Azkaban, the young man had put on much more weight. His blonde curls were cut short and his hair was disappearing into a widow’s peak.

“Hullo, Ron. Umm… A few years back we worked out the spell to send you back. It wasn’t a Time Travel spell at all. It was a Resurrection spell, but it had Time magic elements to it, as well as Soul magic. It was meant to resurrect someone from when they were their strongest. I think… In your time, you interfered with the spell and rather than bringing forward the powerful soul, it sent _you_ back to it. To 1942.” Alton wrung his hands. “I’ve altered the spell, enhancing the Time Travel aspects spell, for accuracy. You will go forward in time, into your own body. There won’t suddenly be two Ron Weasley’s in the future. I don’t think.”

“Enough talk, Alton.” Riddle’s cold voice cut in. “Cast the spell.”

“O-O’ course Professor Riddle.” Alton pulled out his wand shakily.

Ron’s world went black.

 

*            *            *

 

_49 years later_

It was warm. Warm, and soft. He must have died, Ron theorised. Died and was now living in the afterlife. After spending so long in the cold Azkaban cell, with worn robes and a thin blanket on the ground, there was no other explanation. Alton’s spell had failed and instead of sending him forward in time, it killed him. Finally, his pain had ended.

“Ed? Stop being such a lazy git and get up.” A faint voice said from somewhere around him. There must be other people in the afterlife! “Ed! If you don’t get out of bed, I’m coming in!” This Ed had the right idea. Lying around all day in bed. Ron should go meet him, later.

There was a sound of a door bursting open, loud footsteps and then the blankets wrapped around him was harshly ripped away. Instantly curling up in a ball against the cold, Ron croaked out, “What the bloody hell?!”

Ginny was staring down at him, a scowl set on her face. She looked the same; her hair was the same shade as Ron’s own, pulled up in a high ponytail and the freckles scattered across her face were visible even in the dim light. Ron instantly scrambled to his feet. “Ginny!” He gasped, grabbing his sister into a firm hug.

“Oof!” She said as Ron squeezed the air out of her lungs. “E-Ed? What’s the matter with you?”

“Ginny, I… I… Where am I?” Ron tried to speak, his mind spinning. “Have you died? Have I died? Is this the afterlife?”

Ginny managed to detangle herself from her brother’s arms, looking at him alarmed. “Merlin Ed, you really shouldn’t be drinking so much, you _know_ it gives you bad nightmares. I’m alive, you’re alive, and the afterlife had better not be as ghastly as this, or else I’m coming back as a ghost and kicking the Dark Lord’s arse myself.” 

Did Alton’s spell actually work?! “Wh-What year is it?”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake. _Get dressed,_ you miserable drunkard. We have to leave shortly for the rendezvous. Oh, and don’t forget your mask.” Ginny shot at him over her shoulder, before leaving him alone in the room.

 _Rendezvous?_ Ron wondered to himself. For several long moments, he stood in the centre of the room, before slowly going over to the wardrobe and pulling open the doors. Most of the robes were in varying dark colours and all looked like they would fit Ron, so guessing that they _were_ his seemed reasonable. Quickly changing out of his pyjamas into charcoal robes, Ron thought about what Ginny said.

A _rendezvous,_ that could mean anything! And what mask was she talking about? Digging through the wardrobe, something golden caught Ron’s eye on the top shelf. Reaching it easily, goosebumps shot up his arm as his hand enclosed around the cold metal. Staring at the gold mask, Ron felt a sick uneasiness grow in his stomach. There was no definitive expression on it, no wicked smile or spiteful frown, but staring at it made a shiver go down his spine that he didn't like. Why would he need to wear such a thing?

Tearing his eyes away from the mask, Ron swallowed thickly. The only way he would find out would be to go ahead with it, he resolved. He would just have to play his part, whatever that was.

Stepping out into the hallway Ron spotted a flickering light down one end. Following it, he entered a small but cosy living room; a warm fire crackled in its heath, the mantle covered with framed photos. Above it, a clock loudly ticked – Wait, _that_ couldn’t be the time! The clock said it was almost two in the morning! He should either be in bed or completely pickled in a pub at this time! 

Walking over to the mantle, one photo in particular caught his eye. It was an old photo; Ron could see the edges had been creased and torn underneath the glass front. But it was the people in it that made Ron stare. In the centre stood a young Dumbledore; Older than he looked in the Ministry when Grindelwald died, but younger than when Ron was at Hogwarts. His forehead was creased, the lines drawing a serious frown that couldn't be hidden by his friendly smile. Surrounding him were more familiar people; his parents, Sirius, Mad-Eye Moody, Neville’s parents, Harry’s mum…

A soft sigh came from behind him. “She was so inspiring… Lily Evans.” Ginny was staring at the photo over his shoulder. “She was only in her fifth year when the Reform came in; she didn’t even finish her education. When she fought it, she was so diplomatic about it and didn’t resort to violence. She played their game instead and was so close too, Mum said. The public was accepting of the Muggleborns to go back, but… Well,” Ginny’s voice became angry. “As if anyone believes her death was actually an _accident.”_

Ron looked at the photo again, realising a particular person was missing. “Say, Ginny…” He tried to sound casual. “How’s Harry going?”

Ginny turned to him, a slight frown on her face. “Who?”

“…Harry Potter?”

“I don’t know anyone by that name?” Ginny shook her head, sighing again. “Everyone like to say they know a Quidditch player. Name drop in the pub and they get a free beer, or whatever! They’re not actually interested in me, you know, it's only fame they're after.” Stepping back, Ginny shrugged the cloak she had on over her shoulders. “We’d better get going. You ready?”

Not quite trusting his voice, Ron nodded.

 

Despite his own cloak, the cold wind ripped through him, lingering on his skin. The London street was illuminated only by yellowing streetlamps, casting shadows on the ageing buildings around them. They were completely alone, the only hint at other life were the sounds of Muggle cars in the distance.

Falling beside Ginny as she walked, the siblings quietly walked down the street. Reaching an intersection, several cars drove past, their headlights blinding Ron whose eyes had adjusted to the low light. “Ginny? Is it okay for us to be out here?” He asked hesitantly as another set of lights shone in his face.

“It’s safer,” She replied. “We use as little magic as possible, so the Dark Lord can’t track us.”

“But… the Muggles,”

“Ignore the Muggles.” Was all Ginny said before stepping out onto the road.

Darting between oncoming cars, Ron hurried across after Ginny. They continued their journey in silence, Ron still clueless as to what it was they were doing. Occasionally they passed a Muggle walking in the opposite direction. Noting that several of them happened to cross the road as they approached, Ron wondered if they were actively avoiding them. Maybe they were just being particularly cautious since it was night-time? There’s no way they actually knew…

Ginny and Ron reached another intersection, and Ron spotted a figure lying on the ground, curled up under a dirty blanket. The person’s eyes flitted open and locked onto Ron. Pure terror filled the Muggle’s face as they scrambled to their feet, gripping the blanket so tightly their knuckles went white.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” Ron said, holding up his hands.

“Get away from me, Devil-worshipper!”

Stomach plummeting, Ron tried saying something back, but Ginny grabbed hold of his arm and pulled him away. “Damn it, Ed! I told you to ignore the Muggles! This _isn’t_ the time to be a Good Samaritan!” She dragged Ron across the road and down a narrow alleyway. The light from the streets didn’t reach far into the alley, making it difficult to see anything in the darkness stretched out. Squinting, Ron thought he saw movement ahead and pulled back on his arm to alert Ginny.

“There’s someone down there…” He whispered as quietly as he could.

“They had better be there, we don’t have a lot of time left.” She replied, not slowing her pace. His hand twitching for his wand, Ron stumbled after her towards the dark figure. No, figures! As they got closer, he saw the outline of a second one, leaning against the wall not moving. Their heads turned to Ginny and Ron as they approached.

“You lookin’ to buy somethin’, little lady?” A deep, gruff voice asked.

“Don’t know…” Ginny replied casually. “Do you have anything that would cause a nice, big distraction?”

The other figure laughed, making Ron startle as he recognised it.

“Yeah, we’ve got something that’ll do the trick.” The original man’s voice lifted and Ron gaped as their wand lit up, lighting the area around them. Holding the wand, Fred grinned good-heartedly at Ginny. Fred. He was… A lump welled up in Ron’s throat and he couldn’t breathe.

Pushing himself from the wall, George approached them. “You okay there, Eddykins?” He asked, a roguish smile playing on his lips. “Ginny didn’t beat you awake, did she?”

“He would have deserved it.” Ginny retorted, casting an unimpressed look at Ron. “He’s been drinking again. He didn’t even know what _year_ it was when I woke him.”

“When you live a cesspool of a world like we do Ginny, there is no such thing as too much Firewhisky.” Fred said, grinning at Ron. “Isn’t that right, my ickle little brother?” Fred’s smile dropped when he saw the tears in Ron’s eyes. “What’s the matter?” Fred asked, concerned. “Did…” His voice dropped to a hushed whisper. “Did Eddy-Weddy wet the beddy, again?”

“Piss off,” Ron gasped out, punching Fred in the arm. Tears spilt out and rolled down his cheeks.  “I-I just missed you,”

“Aww, ickle-Eddy missed his brothers!”

“We missed you too, Eddykins!”

Ron suddenly found himself as the meat in a sandwich between the twins, getting squeezed so hard his ribs cracked.

“What on _earth_ are you doing?!”  

“Ginny!”

“Baby sister, get in here! We’re having a family bonding moment!”

Ginny squawked indignantly as she was pulled into the sibling group hug, swearing at Fred who started rubbing his fist down on her head. Ginny yelling at them, Fred and George laughing boisterously, and Ron couldn’t stop the tears run down his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he had ever been as happy as he was in that moment. Ron wanted to protest when the hug ended, but didn’t. Rubbing his face again, he didn’t even complain when George messed his hair out of place.

“Well now that you got _that_ out of the way,” Ginny said, smoothing down her hair, her face flushed. “We’ve got to get moving to the fountain.”

The smiles on Fred and George’s face slipped off, and they frowned seriously. “Sirius and the others are already in place,” George said, his voice low. “They’re waiting for the signal.”

Ginny nodded. “Let’s do this.”

 

Weaving through the maze of London’s streets and alleyways, the Weasley siblings finally stepped into a small park, dwarfed by the towering buildings around it. In the centre, a large stone fountain ran, the splashing water blocking out a lot of the background noise of Muggle cars. Stepped closer to the fountain, Ron’s heart skipped a beat as he realised what the carving was of. A young Tom Riddle was locked in a heated battle against Grindelwald, water spraying out of their wands mimicking the spells clashing. Frozen in time, Riddle’s handsome face was determined, the blank eyes locked on Grindelwald, who had fallen to his knees, unable to complete with the brilliant student. Grindelwald’s face was almost comically evil; his features were exaggerated making him look far uglier than he ever was, a furious scowl on his face, with crooked teeth bared.

A heavy hand clasped his shoulder, making him jump. “It’s showtime, Eddy.” Fred murmured in his ear, pulling out his own golden mask. Following his brother’s lead, Ron hastily pulled his own over his head. The mask sat awkwardly on his face gold lined his vision and his hot breath hit the inside of the mask, already making his skin damp.

“Ed, you watch the north side, I’ll watch the south.” Ginny said from behind him, her voice muffled from her mask. “Keep anyone away, but remember, use as few spells as possible.”

Ron felt his heart beat starting to speed up, and his palms starting to sweat. Standing at the far edge of the park, Ron looked around and saw no-one nearby; the streets were void of cars and people walking. The curtains were drawn on all the windows overlooking the park. Licking his lips nervously, Ron turned back to the others.  

Ginny was pacing the far side of the park, her wand drawn, and Fred and George were hunched by the fountain, but Ron couldn’t make out what they were doing. Glancing up at the statue again, Ron’s felt his heart clench in terror. The statue of Riddle was staring at him, its dead eyes boring directly into his. It had been looking at Grindelwald before, it had _definitely_ not been looking in this direction, Ron thought, his heart thumping painfully. This was bad, this was very, very bad.

Ron ran over to his sister. “Ginny! We need to stop! We have to get out of here!”

“Why, what’s the matter?” She asked, alarmed.

“The statue! Look, Riddle’s statue –”

“We’re ready!” Fred said, coming over to them.

“Say the word, little sister.” George said, standing by his side.

Ron couldn’t see her expression past the mask she was wearing, but when she spoke again, her voice was firm. “We have to do this to save the Muggle-borns. They need the distraction to get them out. Activate it now.”

Fred and George drew their wands, pointing them at the fountain. They spoke the spell, and – BOOM! The statue exploded, a large mushroom of fire and smoke billowing upwards to the sky. The ground beneath his feet shook, and the windows of the buildings shattered into pieces, the shards falling down onto the footpaths below.

Crying out in alarm, Ron threw his arms over his head as burning debris and stone rained down around him. Fred and George were whooping and cheering, as fire and black smoke still rolled up from the remains of the fountain. The trees in the park had caught on fire, the branches and leaves crackling as the fire burnt through them. “WHAT THE BLOODY F–” Ron tried saying, but smoke caught in his throat, causing him to choke and splutter.

Beside him, Ginny pointed her wand up at the sky and muttered a spell. Red light shot out and a large, fiery phoenix stretched out its wings, staring down at the carnage below. Ron heard popping noises around, but before he could register what they were, several spells were shot at him.

“They’re here already!”

“Quick! Back to the hideout!”

“W-wait!” Ron cried out to his siblings, but they had already Apparated away, leaving him alone, circled by a dozen armed wizards.

_“Stupefy!”_

It was like a gigantic bludger had rammed into his chest. Ron was thrown off his feet, crashing painfully on the ground several metres away. Gasping for air painfully, his vision blurring, Ron made out figures crowding around him before passing out.

 

“Wakey-wakey little Weasley!” A foot kicked him in ribs, making him cry out in pain. Curling up instinctively, Ron squinted up. He was still in the park, he could feel the damp grass underneath him, so he couldn’t have been out for long. Looking up at the person towering over him, Ron gaped at a beautiful, but surely still insane, Bellatrix Lestrange. Her hair was as wild and untameable as it was before, but once she was thin and sullen from spending so many years in Azkaban, now her face was full and her body voluptuous. The robes she wore clung to her body, hiding little of her curves, making Ron’s face heat up as he stared up at her.

“So what brings you all the way out here, little Weasley?” Bellatrix crooned at him. Sitting up, Ron winced and rubbed his chest. Glancing around, he saw a dozen wizards standing around the park like security, and a dozen more already working on the clean-up from the explosion. Above it all, the burning phoenix still slowly soared. A hard kick to his side again made him cry out in pain. “ _I asked you a question, Weasley!”_ Bellatrix spat out at him.

“I-I don’t know,” Ron answered.

“You don’t know.” Bellatrix mimicked, her tone mocking. “Let me guess, you just happened to be walking around the park at three in the morning when the Order attacked.”

“Yeah, something like that…” Bellatrix made a frustrated noise and drew her wand.

“Bella. Calm down, that’s enough.” Ron’s head snapped towards the voice. It was him. Riddle approached them, his eyes trained on Bellatrix. He looked the same as he did before, when Ron saw him in Azkaban. Ron wondered how much was a lie, or if it was a result of him creating Horcruxes again.

“But my Lord,” Bellatrix seethed, her shoulders tense. “He is from the _Order._ We have proof now! I have been telling you for _years_ that the Weasley’s were traitorous –”

“Bella.” A warning tone slipped into his voice and Bellatrix’s mouth snapped shut instantly.

“Forgive me, my Lord. I spoke out of place.” She bowed low to the Dark Lord. When she rose, Riddle cupped her cheek fondly. Ron watched with disgust build up inside him as Bellatrix swooned under Riddle’s touch and had to look away.

In what was far too long, Riddle spoke again. “I’ll handle Weasley, Bella. Go assist the others.” Seeing Bellatrix’s sway away from the corner of his eye, Ron kept his face purposely turned away. Riddle suddenly sighed. “You know Ed, an act of terrorism isn’t something I can ignore. You’ve put me in a terrible predicament.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure it’s really bloody terrible,” Ron muttered before he could stop himself. His ears now burning, he kept his eyes focused on a patch of grass off to the side. It had been burnt by the flaming rubble and had turned black.

For several seconds Riddle didn’t say anything, then he crouched down beside Ron and grabbed his head roughly, turning it towards his. Riddle’s wide eyes stared into his, and Ron felt his face go redder. A gleeful grin spread across the man’s face. “Hello, Ron.” Panicking at the look Riddle was now giving him, Ron pulled back away from him. Riddle let him, but his intense stare didn’t lessen. “I’ve waited a long time for you, Ron. How long have you been here?”

Ron shook his head. “Not long. I woke up, and… we came here. I didn’t know what we were doing, I just pretended and went along with it.”

“You, your brothers and sister blew up my fountain to create a distraction so the rest of the Order could rescue the Mudbloods up for execution. Congratulations, by the way, they were successful.”

“Execution?!” Ron asked alarmed. “You’re killing Muggle-borns?!”

“Only those who actively oppose me.” Riddle frowned. “I am a ruler, Ron. I need to squash out rebellions, for the wellbeing and safety of everyone.”

“Of yourself, you mean.” Ron snapped, a familiar anger bubbling in his stomach.

Riddle’s eyes narrowed dangerously, his jaw clenching. Rising suddenly to his feet, he stared down at Ron. “Get up. We’re having this conversation elsewhere.”

“Afraid your lackeys will hear me? Maybe they’ll know exactly what kind of –” Ron was roughly yanked to his feet by Riddle and pulled into his side-along apparition before he could get proper footing.

 

When they arrived at their destination, Ron sank back onto the ground, his head spinning. But Riddle didn’t give him time to compose himself, gripping the front of his robes, forcing Ron to look up at his furious face. “ _Never_ speak to like that to me in front of others ever again.” He warned, his eyes glowing red. 

Fear swirling in his stomach, Ron nodded. Riddle smiled at him reassuringly and Ron felt himself begin to shake. Riddle released him and walked over to a wingback chair in front of a large fire. He had brought them to a library, Ron noted. It was probably his private one; mahogany bookshelves lined every wall, filled with all sorts of books, scrolls and tombs. Riddle gestured to the opposite chair and Ron hesitantly walked over and sat down on it, the leather creaking underneath him.

Several long, awkward moments passed, as Riddle stared at Ron, who stared determinedly into the fire avoiding his gaze. Unable to withstand the silence much longer, Ron spoke. “So… That statue of yours was pretty bloody stupid.” _Nice. Well done Ron, well done._

Riddle’s eyebrows shot up. “Forty-nine years and _that’s_ what you say?”

“It hasn’t been that long for me. I was in Azkaban one minute, woke up here the next. It _is_ stupid though, Grindelwald didn’t look anything like that.”

“History is written by the victors, Ron.” Riddle said, his gaze never moving from Ron. “Grindelwald lost, as did you. _Ron Weasley,_ the black stain on the Weasley name. The traitor who turned against his country, killing the _brave_ Head Auror Gallagher and _innocent_ child Nott. The spy who fed information to Grindelwald, allowing Grindelwald the perfect opportunity to attack the Ministry and kill the Minister.”

“And thank Merlin the _heroic_ Tom Riddle was there to stop both of them.” Ron said, his fists curling up into balls.  

Riddle smiled at him, looking pleased. “Exactly. You understand, after all.” Riddle tilted his head. “Though you shouldn’t be so upset. You went willingly to Azkaban. You chose your own fate.”

Ron sighed, his head hanging low. “What else was there for me? I ruined everyone else’s lives, Azkaban was a light sentence for what I caused.”

“Ruined?” Riddle’s voice sounded tense. “You think _this_ is ruined?” Ron heard robes shuffling and Riddle was standing over him, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, trapping Ron in. Ron looked up and saw anger written across the man’s face again. “I did _everything_ in my power to make sure that you and your family lived comfortable lives. To make sure that _you_ would return. But they fought back: joining Dumbledore and his Order; helping the Muggles and the Mudbloods. They spat in my face despite everything I did for them! Your family is alive because I allow them to!” Riddle’s voice had risen to a shout and Ron stared up at man unable to speak. “In this future, your brother Fred is alive, which he wasn’t in your _perfect_ future. But I did it! I DID ALL THIS FOR YOU AND YOU _DARE_ TELL ME IT’S _RUINED?!”_

Ron tried leaning away from the furious man, but his head was already pressed against the back of the chair with nowhere to go. Red eyes glowered at him and he could feel himself shake. “I-I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. T-thank you for keeping them safe.”

The anger seemed to lose its intensity, but it was still there, simmering underneath the surface. Riddle let go of the chair and sat back down in his own chair, glaring at Ron, his body tense. “I could kill them.” He said softly. “One word from me and the whole Order and the Mudblood Resistance would be wiped out. Your little Mudblood girlfriend was with them, by the way. I kept _her_ alive too.” 

 _Hermione._ Ron felt his chest swell painfully. She was here. He could see her again. _How do I navigate this?_ Ron thought rapidly. _Riddle threatening Hermione and my family._ Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord who has taken over Britain, maybe even the world at this point, who had everything he ever wanted. Ron’s thoughts came to a grinding halt. Maybe not everything…

Shakily rising to his feet, Ron slowly stepped over to Riddle, who was watching him carefully. His heart racing, Ron leant in, only inches away from Riddle’s face. The Dark Lord seemed surprised, his breath catching and eyes widening. Not giving himself a chance to back out, Ron quickly pressed his lips against Riddle’s. This kiss lasted only a few moments, Riddle remaining unresponsive underneath him. Ron pulled back dejectedly, Ron caught only a split-second glance at Riddle’s face before fingers dug into his hair, pulling him back.

“Mmmf!” Ron exclaimed Riddle kissed him again, this time with much more eagerness. Ron quickly found himself getting hot, his head feeling dizzy. _Definitely the fire,_ he thought as Riddle gripped Ron’s waist, pulling him closer. _Sitting far too close…_ His knees barely fit on the chair next to Riddle’s hips as he straddled his lap. “Oh _fuck!”_ Ron cried out, gripping the back of the chair harshly as one of Riddle’s hands found their way into his robes. Panting and shaking with lust Ron could only cry out Riddle controlled his body like a puppeteer pulling his strings.

“So you’re selling yourself to me,” Riddle murmured against his neck, his wet lips pressed against his rapid pulse. “Was it spending so long in Azkaban that broke your pride? Or was it merely the threat on your family and the Mudblood?” Ron couldn’t speak, his entire body taut, arching up into the other’s touch. Riddle didn’t stop. “I don’t just want you in my bed. I want your undying loyalty. I want you serving me, my every whim; every demand. You can go back to your family, and try build a relationship with the Mudblood and play the rebel. But you will always be mine, from now until your death.” Ron cried out, unable to stop himself, scrambling to grip the chair as pleasure crashed around him. Shaking, he dropped his head onto Riddle’s shoulder, feeling like all his energy just fled his body.

Riddle jerked his shoulder up, banging it into Ron’s forehead painfully. Groaning, Ron looked through glassy eyes at the other man. “You’re not finished protecting them yet, Ron. Get on your knees.”

 

Later, Ron lay curled up on the carpet in front of the fire, staring blankly into the flames. It hurt his eyes, but he didn’t look away. Riddle left after they finished, returning with a bottle of scotch and two glasses. Ron downed his glass as soon as it was poured, making Riddle scowl and lecture him that it wasn’t a _‘two-knut bottle of swill’_ and shouldn’t drink it like that. Riddle then had to leave again, Ron suspected this time it was to with work, whatever work a Dark Lord did, leaving him alone in the library.

“You _can_ leave, you know.” Riddle’s voice came from behind him. So, he returned again. “I’m not keeping you hostage.”

“I don’t know where to go,” Ron mumbled miserably. “Fred, George, and Ginny went to the Order hideout. I don’t know where that is.”

“It’s the Black Manor.” Ron sat up, looking at Riddle in surprise. “You can take the Floo to get there if you wish, this fireplace is connected.”

“How do you – never mind.” Ron shook his head, pushing himself onto his feet. Riddle watched him from the entrance of the library. “So… I’ll just go?”

“Of course. And when I want you, I will call for you.”

Ron frowned. “But how?” His eyes widened, and gripped his forearm, imagining a dark tattoo of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth on his skin. Realising his train of thought, Riddle scoffed. “Nothing so vulgar. I never needed to create the Death Eaters anyway. You will know my signal when you see it.”

With Riddle’s cryptic comment in his mind, Ron turned to the fire and saw a canister of Floo powder on the mantle. Grabbing a pinch of the powder, he threw it into the fire, instantly turning it green. Stepping into the flames, he turned back to Riddle. The Dark Lord was watching him, his ever intense eyes not leaving Ron’s. Thinking of Hermione and his family, Ron took a deep breath.

 _“Black Manor!”_      

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s the end! Thank you so much for reading, I’ve had a lot of fun writing this and I hope it brought you some enjoyment too! 
> 
> When I started I never planned to write a sequel to this. I’ve done what I set out to do, which was a story of Ron getting sent back in time and just messing it all up. But as I was writing this final chapter/epilogue, I realised that I was basically setting myself up for a sequel. There’s an entire new AU world to explore now and we can really see changes have happened, rather than the glimpses this chapter gave! I have ideas for a plot, but it’ll be a while before I try writing it, I think I need a bit of a break from these two, haha 
> 
> Thank you again, for reading! <3


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